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January, 1901, to June, 1901 

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The Strand Magazine. 

JANUARY, 1901. 

No. 121. 

Illustrated In terviews. 

By Rudolph de Cordova. 

N spite of his long residence in 
Venice, there is nothing about 
Mr. Henry Woods which sug- 
gests the "Italian 111 England," 
to use the title of one of the 
most famous of the poems of 
Robert Browning, whom he knew. Indeed, 
to use the title of another of these poems, the 
famous artist remains an " Englishman in 
Italy/ 1 finding the inspiration of his art and 
the subjects of his pictures in the populace 
and the architecture of the Queen of the 

14 1 was born," said Mr- Woods, in answer 
to my first question, when I had caught 
him during one of his periodical sojourns 
in I^ondon, ** in 1846, and am a native 
of Warrington, I,anca shire. My earliest 

recollections are of a few lovers of art 
there. Some of them are still living and 
have added to their number, as evidence 
of which they have built an art gallery in the 
town. Fortunately for me, at the grammar 
school at which 1 was educated the head 
master was an amateur, a clergyman, who 
used to paint in water-colours. There was 
also a school of art there: it was founded 
when I was a child, and my ambition was to 
attend It. The master was Mr. J. Christmas 
Thompson, a portrait -painter, and he had 
studied under Sir William Allen, K.A. ? who 
is still living there. My ambition was 
achieved in this direction, for I went 
there when I was between eight and 
nine, and I used to work there even on 
Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, my 

From a] 




[ I 'hctngrnrJL 


only play -time. A great impetus was 
given to art in the North by the Art 
Treasure Exhibition in Manchester in 1857. 
I remember Gainsborough's ' Blue Boy ' 
and Maclise's work being exhibited there, 
and I remember waiting for an hour and 
being pushed through the crowd by reason 
of my size to see Wallis's ' Death of 
Chatterton,' which was lately at the Guildhall. 
It was about this time that I obtained a 
bronze medal, which I still have, and of 
which, at the time, I was very proud, because it 
represents two which were awarded to me in 
1857. The works for which these medals — 
two in one — were obtained were done chiefly 
during my play-time. One of the drawings 
was some plants from Nature and another 
was from a cast. They were excellent studies 
for what was to follow. I recollect that 
floggings were rather frequent at the grammar 
school to which I went, but in consequence 
of my success in art the master declared that 
he would not flog me any more, though he 
immediately proceeded to add that he put it 
to my honour not to deserve the punishment, 
and that, to my childish mind, took away all 
the kudos I had gained." 

" Uid you live up to what was required of 
you?" I asked, with something like awe at 
the idea of any youth of eleven being sud- 
denly transformed into a saint. 

"No," replied Mr. Woods, with a little 
laugh of recollection ; " I often deserved 
floggings, but the master kept his word and I . 
never got them, though I was often made the 
figure-head of a good deal of mischief which 
the boys went in for, in consequence of my 
being in their company. It was about that 
time that I made up my mind to be an artist, 
though my father wanted to make me an 
architect, as he had made the acquaintance 
of one who was restoring the Parish Church 
at Warrington. It was at the Warrington 
School of Art, when about fourteen, that I 
first met my friend — and later my brother- 
in-law — Mr. Luke Fildes, who came from 
Chester to study under Mr. Thompson. We 
soon became friends, and generally worked 
together. My enthusiasm for art went 
up by bounds at the great International 
Exhibition in 1862, to which I went 
frequently during a fortnight's visit to 
London. The result of this was that 
I had a very strong inclination to go to 
London for good. Up to the age of eighteen, 
however, I remained at Warrington, working 
there. Then some art scholarships were 
offered, all over England, by the Science and 
Art Department. 1 did the necessary work, 

and was appointed a national scholar at 
South Kensington. The education at that 
time was purely experimental, but was good, 
as, indeed, it is now, but still experimental. 
The idea of the national scholarship was not 
to make artists, but to be of use to designers 
in the various manufactures of England. I 
chose stained glass designing, because I knew 
I should in that way be able to study the figure 
from the antique and the life. I worked at that 
for a year, and was re-appointed for another 
year, when I began to make myself useful, and 
did some preliminary work in assisting in 
decorative work in the Museum. In my third 
year they were willing to appoint me again, 
but I saw that stained glass was of no use to 
me ; I did not care about it. Then I began 
to do wood drawing, gradually getting work 
on various periodicals, and among other 
things, later on, I illustrated Trollope's 'Vicar 
of Bulhampton.' The Graphic was then 
started, and my old friend, the late Mr. W. 
L. Thomas, placed me on the staff as one of 
the first members, and with the early Christ- 
mas numbers I had a great deal to do jointly 
with Fildes. On the Graphic I often did 
work that interested me, and got me into a 
quick way of fixing an interesting motive, 
while occasionally I left London for subjects. 

" I witnessed many stirring events and 
often had motives suggested for pictures, 
which, had I stayed in England, I should 
undoubtedly have painted. 

" In the summer, however, I used to drop 
wood drawing and go painting. My first 
picture was a little Welsh landscape, which 
was hung at the first exhibition of the Royal 
Academy ever held at Burlington House, and 
the following year I had a little black and 
white drawing exhibited there, since which 
time, until the season of 1899, I never 
missed an exhibition." 

" When did you first go to Venice ? " 

"In 1876 I accompanied Mr. and Mrs. 
Fildes, and started a few little pictures, but 
after two or three months I came back and 
resumed my wood drawing for the Graphic. 
How I came to go was simply that Mr. 
Fildes had been there with Mr. Marcus 
Stone. They told me a great deal about ■ 
the city, and said it would suit me, as I had 
been painting before that, chiefly at Streatley- 
on-the-Thames, pictures in which the back- 
ground and figures were of equal interest. 
The Thames, at that time, was very different 
from what it is now, and on ordinary week- 
days you never saw anyone on it except in the 
month of August. I began at first at Cook- 
ham, where Frederick Walker was painting, 



but I didn't know him until some years 
later. In the following year I went to 
Hurley, where I painted with Tissot and 
Heilbuth, Fildes and Macbeth. Tissot was 
painting studies, and so were the rest of us, 
of a model who was put in a boat in a 
meadow, actually for a picture by Fildes, 
The lot of us had the place to ourselves, so 
we worked with no interruptions. The modern 
house - boat was 
almost unknown 
in those days, 
and only one or 
two steam 
launches ever 
came up so high, 
Henley Regatta 
was on a much 
quieter scale than 
it is now, and 
was not so well 
known. The 
people who went 
up the Thames 
were the ones 
who knew the 
river and loved 
it, and cared to 
picnic and camp 
out in the mea- 
dows. There 
were some men 
from the Temple 
I recollect 
amongst the 
early campers 
out, who always 
respected the 
property they 
were on, 

working friends 
at Streatley were 
Vicat Cole, Kee- 
ley Halswelle, 
and S, \\ Jack- 
son. Jackson had 
a steam launch 
and Halswelle 
had a house- boat, 
one of the first of 
the kind to be 
seen there, and 
we used to have 
a good time, 
often spending 

the river on Sundays when we went picnick- 
ing, I was rather a good canoeist in those 
days, and I remember once the Thames 
being in a high flood, and I went up from 
Cook ham to Streatley in a day, often across 
the meadows instead of going through the 
locks, Halswelle was a most rapid worker, 
and did a large number of small pictures to 
be exhibited at a "one-man show." I think 

the house - boat, 
which we took up 

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by V_nCK 

la hell a.kj r i y i r i d i i ro ITk i "• womfi, ila. 

CopyAshl by H 'W^ f ttefn"-JF i MICHIGAN 


he was one of the most rapid painters who 
ever existed, and he rarely worked more than 
two hours in the morning and two hours in 
the afternoon, 

41 Fildes was then making a study for his 
picture of * The Widower' at Aldworth, an 

From ths Fietur* by] 



Copyrighi by Henry Wood*, Esq., 


old village three miles over Streatley Hill, 
where there are some Crusaders 5 monuments 
and a record in the church that Queen Eliza- 
beth visited it to see them. At Streatley I 
painted several pictures, all of which were 
exhibited at the Royal Academy. Only one 
found a place over the 
line, but I had an offer 
for it from a purchaser, 
which I refused. When 
it came back into my 
hands, thinking I could 
improve pieces of it* I 
painted out the figures, 
but somehow I never 
did anything more with 
it, and it has remained 
in that state until to- 
day. Heilbuth was a 
good friend of mine, 
and in 1878 a fine pic- 
ture of Van Han nan's, 
4 Pearl Stringers,' was 
exhibited in the Paris 
Exhibition. Heilbuth 
asked me to congratu- 
late Van Han nan fur 
him oil my return to 
Venice, but I did not 
then know Van Han nan. 
On my way back to 
Venice, however, I saw 
the picture in Paris he 
had spoken about, and 
arriving in Venice I met 
some Austrian friends 
who called themselves 
the 'Sand Club,' as 
they used to bathe off 
the Lido, There I was 
introduced to Van 
Hannan while we were 
both in bathing cos- 
tume, and I was able 
to give him Heilbuth's 
message. We have 
since been close 

u My returning to 
Venice for a long stay 
had in it something of 
a dramatic element. 
One day I went to 
Streatley and found the 
rooms 1 had always 
occupied engaged, so 
without unpacking my 
. . things I returned to 

,« .ii^ffii fr££A dori that ni ht and 



started off for Venice, where I arrived in three 
days. In August I returned to England, and 
among a pile of letters at my studio await- 
ing my coming I found one from the Art 
Union of London requesting trie to call for 
a cheque En payment for a picture then at 
the Royal Academy. On 
further search I discovered 
their request for the order 
for the picture, and telling 
me that it had been 
selected by one of their 
prize - winners. Back to 
Venice I went — that was 
in 1878 — and took a 
studio in the picturesque 
part of San Trovaso. 
There I painted the 
'Ducal Courtyard/ 
'Street Trading in 
Venice/ the 'Gondolier's 
Courtship/ and another 
picture, all of which are 
now in the Schwabe 
Gallery in Hamburg. 
Before that, however, I 
had painted two pictures 
which were purchased by 
Messrs. Agnew, the first 
of a long series of trans- 
actions with them. 

" In my ' Bargaining 
for an Old Master ' I 
had for a background a 
shop covered with copper 
vessels of all sorts. It 
took three hours to fit it 
up every day. The pro- 
prietor had an imbecile 
assistant who used to 
work for nothing. The 
only business transaction 
I ever noticed there, and 
I worked there for five 
or six hours a day during 
a period of two months, 
was the sale of a coffee- 
pot, which was sold for 
fivepence. The trans- 
action was not a par- 
ticularly happy one, for 
the woman bargained so 
closely for it that the 
proprietor cursed her for 
not wanting to pay 
enough for people to live 
on. His ideas of the 
sum necessary for living PromtluPiet ^^ 
on were evidently limited. 

" A year or two after I was passing the 
house and noticed that the shop had gone, 
but the man was still about. * You have 
given up the bronze business? 1 I said to him, 

11 ' Yes, I do something on commission,' he 
replied ; * I was getting too thin on \C 

cw** ^iflf/EffSftr Pfp^HIGAN 



"I didn't believe that was possible, as he 
always struck me as being pretematurally 
thin at the time he was carrying on the 

"In front of the picture an old man is 
represented seated in a very decayed gilt 
chair, which had once been in the salon of 
a palace, I wanted to find a chair of this 
description, and I heard there was one in the 
Ghetto, so I went there. There I saw the 
very chair I wanted in the shop of a good- 
natured o'd man j to whom I said that I 
didn't want to buy the chair, but I would like 
to hire it, 

" * I will lend it to you/ he said ; ' you can 
have it for as long as you like and return it 
to me when you have finished with it/ 

" I noticed that several loafers were hang- 

.rig In by ffcjirjr 

ing about at the time, and about two months 
after a porter came to me with a seedy-looking 
person in a frock-coat, and announced that 
the gentleman had bought the business of the 
old Jew in the Ghetto, and wanted the chair, 
which, it happened, I had not yet used. 

" * The old man lent it to me,' I said, ( but 
I will gi% f e you ten francs for the loan of it/ 

" 'Sir/ replied the seedy individual in the 
frock-coat, ' I sell, I do not lend ; the price 
is sixty francs/ 

"The chair was not worth sixty francs^ or 
anything like it, and as they saw I was getting 
suspicious and vexed* they began to back out 
Then I got hold of a piece of firewood — 
threats are cheap anywhere— and pointed 
menacingly to the door. As they backed 
out I threw it after them and followed it by 
another lump down the well of 
the staircase, taking care not 
to hit them , they declaring I 
should * hear from them to my 

" I at once started off to 
the Ghetto to investigate the 
matter, and found the shop 
exactly as it was two months 
ago, with the old man seated 
smoking in his chair, 

*** So you are here/ I said ; 
* what about that chair ? You 
have sold your business, I hear/ 
" * Sold my business/ he 
replied, ( certainly not \ I hope 
to die in it Why do you say 
that ? J 

i£ I told him the whole story, 
and he looked puzzled and 
said, * Yesterday a porter came 
and asked me what I wanted 
for the chair the painter had 
borrowed, and I told him 
thirty francs/ 

*'ln this way I found out 
that it was an attempt on the 
part of the man to make thirty 
francs out of me, but it was 
abortive, for I never saw them 
again nor did I ever ' hear 
from them to my disadvantage/ 
Cases of this sort, however, 
are few and far between, but 
there is always something so 
amusing in being 'done' in 
Venice that one bears them 
no ill-will for the attempt. 

"This was my first picture 
exhibited as an Associate of 

UL Wmd*. R.A 



UNIVERSIl1 ) OTft!^* my - 


"About iSSr I found that I wanted a 
larger studio, and looked about everywhere, 
but could not find one. At hist I went to an 
old bric-a brae shop and announced I would 
give a bonus of twenty francs for information 
as to where there was a likely place I could 

Vol, xxi,-2. 

by Google 

turn into a studio. The following day I heard 
through this novel advertising source of a sort 
of temple at the bottom of the garden at the 
Palazzo Vendramin, opposite the Church of 
Santa Maria della Carmine* i went down 
there and found it was occupied by a working 

Original from 




pastrycook. I saw at once that with a few 
changes I could build just the sort of studio 
I wanted. Fortunately there was in Venice a 
Royal Academy gold medallist, an English 
architect who spoke the language well, and he 
arranged all the business preliminaries for me. 
The cake man was in debt for six months' 
rent, and I told him if he could get out in 
five days I would pay his arrears of rent and 
give him sixty francs in addition. He cleared 
out in three days, but, having spent his 
money, he returned to the neighbourhood, 
and threatened both Mr. Scott, the architect, 
and me with all sorts of dreadful things. I 
at once took a leaf out of his book and 
threatened him horribly, and my threats had 
such an effect that I never saw him again. 

" Having made the necessary alterations 
and got a good studio, I commenced with 
my picture, ' Preparation for First Com- 
munion.' Most of the subjects of my 
pictures I have always seen in and about 
Venice, and the motive for this picture was 
suggested while strolling down a small calk. 
Some women were seated at a door, making 
what I thought were lace window curtains. 
I asked about their work, and they told me 
they were not window curtains, but veils for 
the First Communion. I asked them how 
the veils were put on, and they fitted one on 
a little girl, and the woman gave me the 
subject by saying, 4 It is not everyone who 
can fix a veil, I can tell you, sir ; sometimes 
they have to get the priest to come and 
do it.' 

" I at once started designing the subject, 
with a priest superintending the rehearsal. 
Xhe man who stood for the priest was 
perfectly dressed for a rector, clean shaven, 
with white collar and snuff-box complete. 
In the spring I was finishing my picture, 
and in the garden behind my studio some 
gardeners from the country were working and 
chattering a great deal. This put me out 
fearfully, so I asked the model to go outside 
and speak to them. He was really a rough 
fellow of the facchino porter type, though he 
had the face of a priest. He got a ladder, 
put it against the wall, climbed up, and 
drew liberally from the vocabulary of his 
class when in wrath — blasphemy mostly — 
telling them that they had broken the 
professor's soul. At once I saw the fun of 
the thing and ran upstairs to look at the 
scene through the shutter of a window, so 
that I might not be seen. The workmen, 
mistaking him for a priest in reality, were 
most devout and had saluted him with, ' Your 
servant, Rector ! ' He, on the other hand, 

thought they were chaffing, while the poor 
gardeners, aghast at the terrible language of 
the holy man, were crossing themselves and 
standing perfectly speechless at the idea of 
such a scandal." 

" Do you often have such humorous 
episodes with your sitters ? " 

" Not infrequently. When talking together 
there is much in the manner of the Venetians 
which is almost Shakespearean. I remember 
a scene particularly so. Once I was painting 
a scene on a bridge at the Giudecca. On 
the shady side of it about a dozen facchini or 
porters used to sleep. They do not work 
much, but they are not lazy like the Nea- 
politans, for they can only get employment 
when a ship comes through. I had promised 
these men a bottle of wine if they would 
clear out of their favourite haunt until the 
picture was finished. One day some six or 
seven of them were awake, and one said to 
the other, pointing to my picture, * One must 
have patience for this craft/ The second 
replied, 'It's not alone that, because, if it 
were that alone, I, too, could do the paint- 
ing ; I have patience. For thirty years I have 
waited for a " Terno" (the highest prize) in the 
lottery from the saints, and I have patience ; 
and yet I am not good at this craft.' Then 
in turn he pointed to my picture, and de- 
clared emphatically, c No ; wanting a passion 
for the fine arts, patience is useless.' 

" The third came to the rescue with the 
philosophic reminder that I had promised to 
pay a bottle when the picture was finished, 
and they left off speculating on art and 
patience to contemplate the bottle in imagina- 
tion. They got their bottle, but they had to 
wait a whole year for it. 

44 Soon after that I commenced a series of 
pictures about the Scuola San Rocco. There 
is a stone seat there where loafers lie about v 
One day there was a little crowd about me 
talking of my work, and as they were making 
a good deal of noise I turned to the ringleader 
and said, 'When the picture is finished, 
framed, and in the public gallery, and thou 
hast paid thy half-franc to see it, then criticise 
it — not before.' 

" * Sir, I am no critic,' replied the man. *I 
work, and I have a family depending on me.' 

" 'Thou didst criticise,' said another man, 
while an old man, rather wishing to excuse 
them, broke in with, 4 There is no one here, 
sir, who has the capacity or would pre- 
sume to criticise.' 

" Then another spoke ; he would have done 
for one of the clowns in the ' Midsummer 
Night's Dream,' and said, ' If my master was 




here lie could criticise/ upon which the old 
man asked, * Who is thy master? 1 I expected 
the answer to be * Bottom/ but he gave the 
name of a well-known man in Venice, and 
the old man, with a contemptuous expression, 
said, ' There are 
tailors here in 
Venice who 
know more of 
the finearts than 
thy master/' 

jl At San 
Rocco there 
was a man who 
used to worry 
me by his con- 
versation. He 
had apparently 
small means of 
his own, for 
he passed his 
time dozing, 
generally. After 
pestering me a 
good deal he 
one day asked 
me if I knew 
Professor * 

( * 1 replied 
rather curtly, 

" Next day 
he opened out 
with, l It is curi- 
ous you don't 
knovy my friend 
the professor. 3 

41 * What does 
he do?' I asked. 
'This sort of 
thing? 5 and 
pointed to my 

"'Oh, no/ 
he replied ; * my 
friend is no 
painter on the 

"A girl stand- 
ing by broke in 
with,* I suppose 
he is a house- 

" ' He has his studio/ he went on ; then, 
seeing he had made rather a mess of it, he 
said, pointing to my picture, ' But anyone 
can see you are a si^nor with a caprice, 
because you have a gondola/ 

"On another occasion I was working in 

Digitized by Vt* 

From the Pietnrt by] TBI first CO 
Copyright by H^nry 

the Campo Giovanni e Paolo, quite in the 
traffic of the foot-passengers, but I always 
received every possible consideration, for the 
people gave me a wide berth so as not to 
interfere with me in any way. Most funerals 

must pass this 
Campo on their 
way to the 
Some have a 
band waiting 
there. They 
land, and the 

\makes the 
round of the 
Campo, On 
one occasion 
one of these 
process ions 
pulled up just 
where I was, 
and one of the 
mourners ad- 
dressed me, 
and, pointing in 
the direction of 
the coffin, said, 
' He also was a 
painter/ I 
bowed, and the 
man added, 
'And of great 
hopes/ " 

" Haveyou no 
favourite place 
for painting 
near Venice ? TT 
11 Yes, a very 
favourite place 
is at the foot of 
the mountains 
going to Cadore. 
For over fifteen 
years I painted 
there, my most 
important pic- 
tures being 
' The Water- 
Wheels of Sa- 
vassa/ * First 
Veil/ and <A 
Village in Vemto/ At that time a little 
carriage used to come every day to fetch me. 
One day, however, it did not turn up, and 
while I was waiting outside the mills a magni- 
ficent carriage belonging to the noble of the 
neighbourhood stopped, and the servants 


HMLNION VEIL," [If. WtX>d* K R. A. 

Woods E*4- T R-A 



came and inquired for the painter, I made 
myself known, and they said there was no 
carriage available at the inn, so their master 
had sent them for me. When I arrived at 

" * Well,' he exclaimed, aghast, astonished 
at the splendour of the equipage, ' is this 
how the Associates do it ? J 

ft During the course of the evening Mr. 

the inn in this carriage it took a turn in 
front of the house, and to my surprise I saw 
my friend, Mr. j. C Hook, K.A., waiting 
there. /~* 

Digitized by C-OOQIc 

Hook told me of his having heen in Venice 
in 'a^v, and the active part he took in the 
si ir ring affairs there in that yean He was 
very tired aitclr^iWaltf feerii early, while I went 




into the kitchen, where the habitues of the 
inn always sat. They inquired as to who the 
gentleman was, and I said that he was 'an 
English professor of painting who was also a 
Venetian veteran of '48.' 

" ' The English professor merits some atten- 
tion at our hands/ said one of the men, and 
loving, as they do, any excuse for demonstra- 
tion, they started to make the necessary 
preparations. Bengal lights and a band were 
at once arranged for for the next evening, and 
I went to bed. The following morning, 
however, I received a note from Mr. Hook 
saying that he had to leave for England the 
same night, and, just to get a few hours there, 
that he had gone off to Venice. This was a 
great disappointment to the people for they 
really love the English, and would have been 
delighted to have paid a compliment to an 
Englishman who had taken part in such 
stirring events as those of '48." 

Then our talk turned on Mr. Woods' 
method of work, and he said, " I was elected 
a Royal Academician with MacWhirter and 
the late Henry Moore in 1893. I really 
paint quickly, but change a good deal 
during the progress of a picture. When- 
ever I am working at a picture in which 
there is any architecture, like steps or a 
balustrade, I have it copied and coloured 
like the original and pose my models on it, 
for a time at all events, rather than go always 
to the spot. By that time, however, I have 
already finished my background, and, if it is 
a quiet place, I have posed someone in the 
proper position wearing the particular colours 
I am working on, so that everything may be 
absolutely right. The light in Venice is a 
very flattering one, and is never like the white 
light one gets in London. The greater part 
of my pictures is done in a glass studio, 
quite like open air." 

" Was your picture in the last Academy, 
'A Venetian Autolycus,' painted in that 
way ? " 

" Precisely. He was an absolutely real 
man, and used to cry, like Shakespeare's 
Autolycus, * Pretty ribbons for pretty necks.' 
I had intended painting one of these fellows 
for some years past. Whilst at work on the 
background the very man I wanted turned 
up, his tray piled with trinkets, powder-puffs, 
and pearl-powder, which form the largest part 
of their trade, with stockings, handkerchiefs, 
and similar articles — all rubbish, but of the 
most beautiful colour. He spoke to a woman 
who was working at artificial flowers, but she 
was deaf to his blandishments, and finding no 
business was to be done he put down his 

Digitized by LiOOglC 

stand and said, ' Business is so bad I will sell 
the whole thing for thirty francs.' It was the 
very thing I wanted, so I called to my 
gondolier and said, ' Put it in the gondola 
just as it stands.' 

" i Oh, make it forty francs,' said my 
Autolycus, ' it is surely worth that.' 

*' Not wanting -the thing disturbed I made 
it forty francs, and in a minute the place was 
alive with gossip on c the caprice of the 
painter.' A fat woman sitting by, who 
evidently had a shrewd knowledge of human 
nature, said : ' It's no caprice of the painter ; 
he knows what he is doing ; it would cost 
him three times as much if he paid the man 
every time he wanted him to sit to him.' " 

From the people our talk verged to the 
city itself and the changes which have 
occurred there in late years. 

" There are few really nasty changes," said 
Mr. Woods, "although the fine view of the 
Church of the. Salute coming down the Grand 
Canal has been completely ruined by the 
erection of a new i Palace,' and the beautiful 
island of St. Helena, where I painted two of 
my earliest pictures, has been destroyed by 
a railway truck manufactory at the very 
entrance of Venice, a state of things only 
comparable to what the building of a similar 
establishment would be in St. James's Park. 

"As for the steamers about which there 
has been so much talk, they are of 
great use, and they pay, so that their 
presence is inevitable. Before their advent 
one could anchor one's gondola and swim 
out with the tide along the Grand Canal, 
and that used to be a favourite amuse- 
ment of mine. Now one can do neither 
of these things, but the city has benefited 
greatly by the increased commerce. Of 
course, in the small canals the gondola is not 
intruded upon in any way, so that there is 
little interference with the picturesqueness 
there. To see the real life of Venice one 
should go in the hot weather. Then, towards 
the evening, you will hear the splashing of 
water and the laughter of children, and see 
the little ones supported on washing-boards, 
the fathers with the babies in their arms and 
the mothers taking care of the younger ones, 
all swimming about, enjoying themselves to 
their hearts' content." 

" Is not the hot weather rather an un- 
healthy time in Venice ? " 

"Not at all. It is the Venetian bathing 
season ; the visitors are Italian, chiefly from 
every part of northern and central Italy, 
although the air is mostly siroccc. It 
is cooler i^JulxJtop m any where on the 




Lombardy or Venetian plains. August is 
trying, consequent on mosquitoes, which are 
lively and aggressive* 

" Compared with some years ago there are 
very few English residents now in Venice, 
Mr. Robert Browning was generally there 
during the autumn and early winter months, 
I think everything Venetian delighted him, 
particularly the plays in the Venetian dialect. 
I remember him telling an interesting 

serve him, as he tells me that he cannot accept 
charity. He evidently looks upon my efforts 
on his behalf in that light ; but we must 
think over something, as 1 know he is \<_ry 
badly off, I found out with some difficulty 
the Italian store where Manin bought his 
small necessities, and arranged with the pro- 
prietor that Manin should supply his wants 
at a very small cost. This plan succeeded for 
a few days only. Then the shopkeeper came 

Vrmn M< Fieturt frj] 


Copyright by Henry Woods, Esq,, R.A* 

[//. HWi*. It A. 

anecdote of Daniel Manin at Sir Henry 
Layard's dinner- table. Of course you know 
Manin was styled the * Liberator,' and was the 
great man there in the stirring time of '48. 

"'Years ago I was residing in Paris, 5 said 
Mr. Browning, ' Dickens was there also, 
and [iKTiiinrifd that Manin was living in 
Paris, a man who interested him much. He 
had found htm out and done what he could 
to assist him. 1 am now at my wits' end to 

to me in a most excited state, saying that 
the "arrangement for Signor Manin could 
not go on. Even now there's a crowd of the 
poorest Italians in Paris besieging my shop, 
demanding my rice and macaroni at the price 
1 charge Signor Manin. T * 

" * The good patriot had undoubtedly 
informed his fellow-countrymen where they 
could fare well and cheaply. All subsequent 
endeavours to help were useless,' " 

by Google 

Original from 


Author of " Ged*s Prisoner f y 

a in Barnacle. 

By John Oxenham, 

; * Rising Fortunes" "A Primes* oj Vascovy" €te** th\ 

HERE came the usual peremp- 
tory rat-tat on the front door, 
and Miss Charity, in her faded 
black silk and her most 
engaging smile, ran up the 
stairs to answer it. Her 
Faith and Miss Hope, in 

the dark little parlour - kitchen followed 

the track of the adventure up above with 

straining ears and anxious hearts, For you 

must know it was the 4th of August, and than stuffing 

sisters. Miss 


not a single one of their rooms was let, and 
that was a serious matter. 

There was the usual tentative colloquy on 
the front door-step, Then — 

"They've come in," said Miss Faith, and 
clasped her hands thankfully. " I had a feel- 
ing we should let today.' 1 

"Well, if they're nice people we'll hope 
they'll stop in/' said Miss Hope; "but we 
mustn't be disappointed if they dotvt, 
Faith, dean They don't always, you know, 
and sometimes when Charity has told us 
about them afterwards weVe been very glad 
they didn't/ 1 

" I know. But I can't ever remember not 
having a room let on the 4th of August, 
Hope, It's awful/ 5 

" We've always had somebody sooner or 

y Google 

later, dear, and some of them have worried 
you two so that I've wished they'd never 

i( They've gone upstairs," said Miss Faith, 
listening intently, with a sparkle in her eyes. 
* c I'm inclined to think it's all right I wonder 
if they'll take all the rooms and if they'll want 
late dinners, I wish Parliament would pass 
a law making it compulsory to dine at one 
o'clock, It T s ever so much better for them 
themselves with all kinds of 
things when it's 
almost bedtime. 
They must have 
the most hor- 
rible dreams, 
some of them, 
I'm sure. They're 
coming down 
again. They're 
in the dining- 
room. They're 
going out. H'm! 
— call again, I 
suppose, when 
theyve tried to 
beat down some- 
body else with 
our prices. Well, 
Charitw, dear — 

"Not yet, "said 
their younger 
sister, as she 
came down into 
the kitchen. 
<( Look back 

"Or otherwise, as the case may he," said 
Miss Faith. 

"But I don't know that they'd have suited 
us very well, Faith. She was an extensive 
person, all over jet beads, and five children, 
and a nurse and a parrot." 
"A parrot?" cried her sislers. 
" Whatever does she take a parrot about 
with her for?" asked Miss Faith, who got 
her breath first. 

" It belonged to her husband who is dead, 
and she says she looks upon it quite as one of 
the family, and it goes everywhere with them, It 
remembers him perfectly, and sometimes cries: 
'George ! George ! ' till she has to cover it up." 
u I hope she won't come back," said Miss 
Hope, " It would be almost as bad as 
having a dead body in the house/' 




" It's the 4th of August," said Miss Faith, 
with a note of warning in her voice. 

" A nurse is a good deal of a trial," said 
Miss Hope ; " but a parrot and a nurse " 

" Perhaps somebody else will come before 
she gets back. There are lots of people 
prowling round," said Miss Charity. 

" I wish some of the nice ones would 
prowl this way," said Miss Faith. " What 
I would like would be an elderly lady — a 
real lady— with three nice, quiet, grown-up 
daughters, and perhaps a grown-up son, if 
he's gentlemanly and doesn't smoke." 

" If we could make our lodgers to order, 
what very nice lodgers we'd have," said 
merry Miss Charity. She was not very much 
over forty, and a distant aroma of youth still 
clung to her like whiffs of the natural 
lavender with stalks of which, with their 
crumbling heads neatly done up in little 
muslin nightcaps, she delighted to sprinkle 
her drawers and linen cupboard. She was 
the connecting link between her elder sisters 
and the outer world. For Miss Faith did 
all the cooking and rarely went out 
during the season, and Miss Hope had 
been a hopeless invalid for more than twenty 
years — hopeless, however, only from the 
point of view of possible cure ; in all other 
respects she was as full of the apostolic 
virtues as either of her sisters. Visitors 
rarely saw Miss Faith, and Miss Hope never. 
But Miss. Charity, mingling with the gay and 
giddy throng above stairs, carried all the 
news below, and Miss Hope awaited her 
descents as impatiently as parted lovers or 
incipient authors await the postman, and 
Miss Charity never disappointed her. Every 
time she came down she brought a budget of 
news, or dashed off descriptive sketches of 
the nomads above which would have enabled 
those usually self-sufficient personages to 
correct many flaws in their characters if they 
could have listened to them. 

The parlour-kitchen was half underground, 
and from the front window possessed an 
aggravating view of passing skirts and trouser- 
legs. During the season it was the abode of 
a somewhat distressing complexity of odours, 
which no amount of through draught ever 
entirely removed. And here Miss Hope lay 
on her couch, week in and week out, and 
assisted the busy workers in various ways, 
but chiefly by means of her head and her 
tongue and her unfailing good humour. 
When, now and then, Cook Faith intrusted 
her with some simple side issue in the 
culinary department, such as the chopping of 
parsley or the beating of eggs — something 

Digitized by GoGgle 

that she could do with her hands without 
moving her body — she was supremely happy 
for the rest of the day, and inclined to be a 
trifle puffed -up with conceit and the belief 
in a possible improvement in her incurable 
malady. Otherwise her time was spent in 
the concoction of worked tidies and the 
colouring of outline texts for the embellish- 
ment of the rooms upstairs. 

They were the daughters of a Noncon- 
formist country minister, who, on a stipend 
of ;£8o a year, had maintained his wife and 
family in a state of precarious happiness, 
and had clothed and educated the girls 
befittingly. How? — Heaven and his wife 
only knew. What he did know was that 
after his wife died, when the youngest 
girl was about fifteen, he found it for some 
time harder to provide for four than it had 
been for five. But the girls were good girls, 
and soon learned how to manage the slender 
income. When that ended abruptly with 
their father's death they came into a windfall 
of close on ^700 from his insurance money. 
How he had ever managed to pay the 
premiums passed their comprehension. But 
there was the money, and with it they took 
a small house at Sparburgh and started a 
school. For a time it succeeded fairly well, 
then dwindled in the face of growing 
competition, and at last they gave it up and 
decided to take in lodgers. They had their 
bad times and their not so bad times. Pros- 
perity fought shy of the little grey house with 
the* green Venetian shutters ; but, thanks to 
the money they had in the bank, they kept 
their heads above water and managed to 
present, if not a bold, at all events an equable 
front to the world. They lived— and looked 
to do little more till the time should come 
for them to die. 

And yet the little grey house and the little 
grey lives had not been entirely devoid of 
romance. Once upon a time a certain 
Colonel, late of the Indian Army, retired from 
active service to energetic criticism, with a 
little money and a considerable temper, had 
taken the drawing-room upstairs and the 
bedroom adjoining, and had lived there all 
through the winter. In spite of his hot 
temper — which showed itself chiefly in 
violent fulminations against certain powers 
in the East, against whom he cherished a 
perpetual grievance — they grew to like him, 
and he them, especially Miss Charity, who 
waited on him. He would probably have 
retained the drawing-room as a permanency 
if he had not caught a chill in the spring and 
died. He left each of the elder sisters ^50, 

L| 1 1 Kl I I I -• I 1 1 




and ^100 fo Miss Charity — u in token of 
the affectionate esteem which her devoted 
attention has awakened in the heart of a 
sick and troublesome man," 

" If the Colonel had lived " became 

an accepted formula in the quaint little 
household. It was the dash of red in the 
grey of their lives, for the elder sisters held 
the profound conviction that if the Colonel 
had lived he would have married Charity— 
and incidentally themselves, of course, for 
they never would be parted —and the grey- 
ness would have been overlaid for ever with 
a covering of rose pink and the Colonel's 
gold It did them all good to think of that 
beautiful might-have-been, and helped them 
bravely through many a despondent hour. 
The Colonel's little legacy bolstered up their 
drooping fortunes for a time, but the thought 
of the high estate that had so barely escaped 
them was infinitely more precious to them 
than the money. 

They just managed to keep the ship afloat, 
and they lived in the constant hope of another 
Colonel turning up and completing the hope 
which the late one had roused in them. 

They were, of course, too rigidly honest to 
pros per in their 
chosen walk in life* 
There was no land- 
lady's cat at the little 
grey house, and Miss 
Hope's tiny black 
kitten, which lay per- 
petually in her lap 
and played with her 
wools and paint - 
brushes, was too well 
cared for even to 
dream of attacking 
the lodgers' stores, 
and moreover it was 
always given away 
before it arrived at a 
stage of too great 
understanding, and 
was replaced by a 
replica of infantine 
i n nocence* Never 
until a scrap of cold 
rice-pudding had 
been sent upstairs at 
least three times, and 
been returned un- 
touched, was it 
allowed to be con 
verted, by means of 
a spoonful of milk 
and a dash of fresh 

Vol w--a 

nutmeg on top and five minutes on the stove, 
into a sumptuous supper for Miss Hope* 

However, to return. The lady of the 
parrot did not come back. 

" And I'm really very glad she didn't," 
said Miss Hope, holding her work at arms' 
length for a bird's-eye view. It was the final 
tidy in a set of four, and was a somewhat 
wild departure from the usual run of her art 
The set depicted in red thread on white 
linen four startling scenes in the life of a 
steeplechaser. No, i, The Mount — Jockey 
getting up on wrong side, Horse apparently 
paralyzed at the innovation. No* 2, The 
Start — Horse on its hind legs pawing 
frantically upwards, and begging Heaven to 
witness its irresponsibility for anything that 
might happen to a man who didn't know the 
right side of a horse* No. 3, The Race, — 
Horse vtntrt-a-ttrrt in the most literal 
fashion. Jockey's head twisted completely 
round, regarding unseen competitors with a 
self-satisfied smirk. No. 4, The Moral End- 
ing. — Horse and rider come to inextricable 
grief over two lines of red thread representing 
a paling. 

^Finished, Hope, dear? 1 ' asked Miss Charity. 

by Google 

'finished at last/ SAID K10S HOFft," 

Original from 



"Finished at last," said Miss Hope. "You 
don't think they'll be considered too frivo- 
lously depraved, do you, Faith?" 

" I don't think so, dear. We get all kinds 
of people, you know, and to some they might 
be attractive. And anyway, you make it all 
right in that last one. If that doesn't turn 
anyone against horse-racing I don't know 
what will." 

"Yes, that contains the lesson.. The first 
three might attract, but I think the last one 
would discourage anyone. I almost cried 
over it. That poor horse ! " 

" It is terrible ! " said Miss Faith, regarding 
it with a little shiver. It was. 

"One gets tired of doing pigs and cows all 
the time. I simply had to have a change," 
said Miss Hope, by way of extenuation. 

" I'll put them up in the drawing-room to- 
morrow," said Miss Charity. " Perhaps 
they'll bring us luck." 

" Luck, Charity, dear ! There is no such 
thing as luck," said Miss Hope. 

"It's the 5th of August to-morrow," said 
Miss Faith, with a sigh. 

" Well, I'll put them in the drawing-room, 
all the same." 

And it really seemed as though, in spite of 
Miss Faith, the depraved tidies did bring 
them luck. 

There were several applicants for rooms 
next day, and they all promised to call again, 
but none of them did so. 

" They were none of them quite our kind," 
said Miss Charity, calmly. 

"It's the 6th to-morrow," said Miss 
Faith. " I don't ever remember not having 
let a single room by the 6th before. It's 
terrible. We shall be in the workhouse if 
things go on this way." 

It was quite late in the afternoon when 
Miss Charity wreathed her face in its 
pleasantest smile, for the sixth time that day, 
and tripped up the stairs to an unusually loud 
knock on the door. 

Those below heard the rumble of a big 
voice and the tread of heavy steps. 

"It's come in, whatever it is," said Miss 

" It sounds to me like an elephant," said 
Miss Hope. "Perhaps this one carries 
round her late husband's elephant and treats 
it as one of the family." 

" Oh, but, my dear, we couldn't do with an 
elephant about the house," said matter-of- 
fact Miss Faith. " One must draw the line 

The little house almost shook under the 
visitant. Presently the outer door closed, 

by Google 

the heavy steps went past the *window, and 
Miss Charity came down. 

" Whatever was it, Charity ? " asked Miss 
Faith. " It sounded as if it would bring the 
house down." 

"Oh, he's not so bad as all that," said 
Miss Charity. " It's an old sea captain — 
Captain Barnacle. And if he likes it it may 
be a permanency." 

" What has he taken ? " asked Miss Faith. 

" Drawing-room and the bedroom next to 

"The Colonel's rooms," murmured Miss 

" He's gone up to the station for his 
traps," said Miss Charity, "and we're to 
have tea ready in half an hour. He's rather 
loud and heavy " 

"We thought he was an elephant," said 
Miss Hope. 

" But I think he'll be very nice, and if he's 
a permanency, as he hinted, it will be a 
relief. Do you know, Hope, I believe it was 
your racing tidies that decided him to stop." 

"Oh, I'm so glad," said Miss Hope, 
clasping her hands. " I was afraid they 
might turn people away. What did he say, 
Charity ? " 

"He looked at No. 4 for a long time 
first ; then he looked all round till he found 
No. 1 and then Nos. 2 and 3. Then he 
looked at No. 4 again, and said, i Shiver 
my timbers ! Did you do them, miss? ' and 
I said, 4 No, it was my sister Hope did 
them.' i And what's your name, my dear ? ' 
he said. And I said it was Charity. And 
he said, c And where's Faith ? ' And I said 
she was down in the kitchen. And he said, 
1 Well, my dear, I've been taking soundings 
all round, and I've found no spot I like quite 
so well as this, so if we can come to terms 
I'll just drop anchor here for a while, and if 
so be as the berth suits me I'll, maybe, lie 
up here all winter.' " 

" That would be splendid if he turns out 
nice. He'll want to smoke, I suppose?" 

" He may smoke all day and all night if 
he doesn't burn the house down," said Miss 

" Yes," said Miss Faith, with a nod, " the 
day after to-morrow's the 7th. Now, if 
we could only let the other rooms, we'd be 
all right after all." 

Captain Barnacle's tea was ready for him 
when he returned with two big wooden sea- 
chests on a cab. He helped the man to 
carry them up, and the two sisters below sat 
trembling lest the house should come down 
upon their heads. He haci brought in some 

Original from 



shrimps for his tea, and he sat a very long 
time over it When Miss Charity went up, 
in answer to his ring, to remove the things, 
she hardly knew her own drawing room, and 
stopped on the threshold with a little gasp of 

u Don't be alarmed, my dear," trolled the 
Captain, in a big, hearty voice* " I like to 
have my little things about me, then I feel at 
home. They've come from nigh every end 

o J the world. Queer stories some of 'em 
have, too. Maybe 111 tell you about T em 
some day. That spear might ha' gone 
through my heart if it hadn't been for- — ?l 

" Oh, how terrible ! " cried Miss Charity. 

" Wuss, if it had," said the Captain, 
( * That's the revolver I always used to 
wear- " 

" Not loaded ? " said Miss Charity, faintly. 

" Not loaded now" said the Captain, 
'* 'cause there ain't no occasion for it. You 
ain't likely to mutiny, my dear, and try and 
creep in on the old man while he's asleep - ; ' 

" Oh S n cried Miss Charity, with a sense 
of shocked modesty. 

" That's the time when a revolver comes 
in handy, my dear. That cutlass belonged 
to the captain of a Fortugee slaver down 
Cameroons way. He died sudden. That's 

a knobkerrie from Australia, and that curved 
thing's a boomerang. When you throw it, 
if you know the trick of it, it comes back at 
you as hard as you sent iL" 

" What a horrid thing," said Miss Charity. 
"You haven't -any— live things, Captain, 
Have you ?" and she looked about fearfully 
at the shadows below the table and the sofa, 
in case anything in the shape of a snake ur a 
young crocodile might be lurking there. 

l * No live things, miss — not here/' said 
the Captain* " I keep them- - 1 mean I don't 
hold with keeping live things in the house, 
I did have a live cobra oncc% a young one. 
But he died, so I stuffed him and gave him 
to a museum. Those are uncommonly fine 
sVimps, miss. You and your sisters will do 
me a favour if you'll finish them, if so be as 
you like them. Some folks doesn't ; for me t 
I'm very fond of 'em when they're big and 
fat and fresh, and worth the trouble of 
pulling their heads and tails off." 

** My dears/' said Miss Charity, when she 
took the things into the kitchen, 14 those 
shrimps are for you, and you're to eat them 
all. You simply wouldn't know the drawing- 
room, Faith. He's got all kinds of things 
stuck about. Knoberangs and boomkerries 
from Australia, and spears that almost went 

through his 
heart, and re- 
volvers that he 
y"V ; >. shoots people 

^Jiki :j S* w ^ w ^en they 

mutiny and try 
to steal on him 
when he's asleep 

"Not loaded?" 

queried both 
sisters, with a 

" No, he won't 
load them unless 
he sees signs of 
mutiny. And 
cutlasses and, 
oh ! all kinjs 
of awful things 



Original from 

"No live 

thing a ? " 

asked Miss 
Faith, with the 
same tremulous 
fear as M iss 
Charity had 
exhibited up- 



" No, his snake died, so he stuffed it and 
gave it to a museum " 

" What an awful kind of a man ! " said 
Miss Hope, laying down her work to stare 
at them. 

11 No, he's very nice, and I think he'll be 
very good company. He's going to tell me 
all about his things some time." 

When she went up to light the lamp 
Captain Barnacle was sitting at the open 
window with a long pipe in his .mouth, but 
he was not smoking. 

"Ah, there you are, my dear," he said. 
" I was just wishing you'd come, but I didn't 
want to disturb you. Now, I wonder what 
you'd say if I whispered * Smoke ' ? " and his 
voice dropped on the word into a hoarse 
hurricane of a whisper like a rising gale in 
the chimney, which set Miss Charity laughing. 

" I should say 4 smoke ' too, Captain," she 

And* before she had finished the match 
that had been wriggling in his fingers for 
nearly an hour flashed along his trouser-leg 
and was buried in the bowl of his pipe. 

" Smoke it is," said the Captain, with puffs 
of great content. " When one's accustomed 
to it, you see, one misses it; but when there's 
ladies in the question, one likes to know their 

The Captain was a voluminous smoker; in 
fact, there is good reason to believe that it 
was the sight of his cheerful red face and 
active funnel at the open window upstairs 
that frightened away a model old lady and 
two elderly daughters, who stood and looked 
at the house and then turned and went on 
their way. No one else saw them but the 
Captain. He drew in his head instantly, 
but the mischief was done and the rooms 
remained vacant. 

Still, he was a good lodger, gave very little 
trouble, and praised Miss Faith's cooking till 
she blushed as if she had been grilling a 
steak. He even asked to be introduced to 
the ladies downstairs. 

" Seems kind of unnatural," he said, as 
he filled the little kitchen with his burly 
presence, "to be living in a house and never 
to have seen the people in it. Like having 
a passenger aboard ship and never setting 
eyes on him. And that happens sometimes, 
and it's always an uncomfortable thing. If a 
man's nothing to be ashamed of, let him show 
his face, says I, and if it's only sea-sickness 
he'll get over it quicker outside his bunk 
than in it." 

" It must be very delightful to travel all 
over the world," said Miss Hope, the 

by L^OOgle 

sofa-bound. "How much you must have 

" Well, yes, miss. One can't help seeing a 
good deal if one goes about with one's eyes 
open," said the Captain, half-apologetically. 

" Can't help seeing ? " echoed Miss Hope. 
" I shouldn't think anyone would want to 
help. I can't imagine anything more de- 
lightful than being able to go wherever you 
want and see everything there is to see." 

" I don't know," said the Captain, with a 
half-shake of the head. " Sometimes there's 
things one would just as soon forget. I re- 
member once " and he spun them a yarn 

which made their eyes grow round and large, 
and held their breath in suspense, and curdled 
their blood delightfully. He often spent an 
hour in the parlour-kitchen after that, and 
Miss Hope lived so adventurous a life in his 
company that she was quite tired out at 
times, and complained of pains in her limbs, 
which had had no exercise for twenty years. 

The Captain cultivated a great acquaint- 
ance among the amphibious occupants of the 
row of little wooden huts along the top of 
the shingle ridge. They spent most of the 
time lounging on their arms over the great 
wooden capstans which were used to drag 
the boats up the shingle, talking to one 
another, or looking out over the sea with 
old binoculars or still more ancient tele- 
scopes, for passing ships, or over the strip of 
common behind for possible customers. To 
these honest, if not over-occupied, souls the 
Captain came as a godsend. He was never 
without a twist of strong tobacco, and he 
won the heart of Captain Billy Barlow, the 
coxswain of the Sparburgh lifeboat, with a 
present of an excellent cigar every day when 
they met. Within a week Captain Barnacle 
divided the honours of the beach with 
Captain Billy himself, and was as much 
an institution thereof as the oldest inhabitant 
of the original wooden hut whose roof con- 
sisted simply of an upturned boat. 

That the Captain was in his element no 
one could possibly doubt who looked at his 
face, as he lounged or sat among the ancient 
mariners and distributed twist and spun 
yarns equally to their liking. He dressed 
always in blue from necktie to stockings, and 
the comprehensive geniality of his smile was 
emphasized by the knowing backward tip of 
of his wide grey billycock. He was the 
well-to-do retired seaman to the life. 

"He's a good sort, is Cap'n Barnacle," said 
Captain Billy Barlow, with emphatic finality, 
" a perfec' gentleman, and he have seed some 
mighty cur'ous things," and so said everyone, 





So very comfortable did the Captain find 
his quarters, both inside and outside, that he 
stayed on week after week, till the time ran 
into months, and it was evident that he had 
the makings of a " permanency " in him, and 
the sisters were well content. 

Their other rooms, indeed, had not let 
at all well during the short season, but a 
permanent lodger all through the winter was 
a somewhat rare bird in Sparburgh, and so 
open-handed and genial a lodger as Captain 
Barnacle was absolutely unique. 

Never in his life had the Captain been so 
much made of ; never had lie been so com- 
fortable. It cannot be considered surprising 
that, having found so comfortable a haven 
after all his wanderings, the idea of safe- 
guarding it from the storms of life, so far as 
lay in his power, took root in his heart and 
grew and flourished there. 

Miss Charity was a lady, of course, and he 
claimed to be no more than a rough sailor- 
man. But the cheerfulness and hopefulness 
— in a word, the Faith, Hope, and Charity — 
of the three sisters had curled round his 
heart, and he knew that he could never he 
so happy again anywhere else in the world. 

Miss Charity faithfully reported all his 
sayings and doings downstairs, just as she 
used to do the Colonel's, and the dark little 
parlour grew luminous with unspoken hopes 
and ideas. The gentle lamentations for the 
Colonel grew fewer and farther between. 
Military reminiscences faded before more 
present maritime experiences. For by degrees 

by LiOOglC 

they all grew 
very fond of 
Captain Rnrn- 
acle, and, after 
all, one live 
captain counts 
for more in the 
matter of per- 
sonal friend- 
ship* than a 
regiment of 
dead colonels, 
The greatest 
fear of their 
lives was that 
he would grow 
tired of his 
quarters and 
leave them — 
perhaps go to 
sea again and 
get drowned. 
How he had 
ever come 
through so many hairbreadth escapes was 
almost beyond belief, if he hadn't sat there in 
very solid person telling them the stories. 

Ki I do hope he won't die," said Miss Hope, 

*' Die ? Why should he die? He is as 
strong and well and hearty as he possibly 
could be," said Miss Charity. 

. " Well, the Colonel died just when n 

" He's not been eating as well as he used 
to," said Miss Faith, " 1 hope he's not 
getting tired of my things. Ill look up 
some new dishes for him " 

By degrees and in course of tinu; the 
Captain grew palpably mopy in his manner, 
as of one with dyspepsia or a conscience, 
Even the longshoremen noticed it and did 
their best to cheer him. With the best of 
intentions, and an eye to business, they urged 
him to go sailing, and did their best to 
wheedle him out fishing. Hut to all their 
disinterested blandishments he answered : 
11 Nay, lads, if you'd spent forty years at sea 
you'd be ready to keep the feel of dry land 
under your feet when the chance came. It's 
a hard life at best," and his head would wag 

They were greatly concerned for him, for 
they liked himself and his yams and his 
twist, and they did not want to lose any of 
these most desirable alleviations of their lot 
They discussed his condition among them- 
selves, and ventured many opinions. The 
prevalent one was that he was not comfort- 
able in his lodgings, 

Original from 




" They're good wimmen, the Miss Graynes, 
but maybe they're a bit strait-laced for th' 
old gen'leman. Passon's daughters I've 
heard say," said the spokesman at one of the 
capstan meetings. " He do smoke indoors. 
Yes, I've seed 'im. But maybe 'e don't feel 
free to grog and cuss a bit as comes nat'ral 
to a man what's bin at sea all his life. An' 
when a man's cut off too sudden from doin' 
the things what's nat'ral to 'im, why nat'rally 
he feels it," and just then the Captain came 
across the common and churned through the 
shingle, and the sympathetic mariner deter- 
mined to tackle him at once. 

" Better, Cap'n ? " he asked. 

" I'm all right, Jim. What's wrong with 
you ? " 

" How's yer diggin's, Cap'n ? " and the rest 
listened open-mouthed. 

" My diggin's, Jim ? They're all right, 
best I ever had. What's started you on this 
tack, my lad ? " 

" Well, Cap'n, we thought maybe they 
wasn't quite big enough for you, and if so 
be's we could make you any comformabler, 
why, we'd like t' do it. You ain't look'n' as 
chirpy as y' used to, Cap'n, an' that's a fact, 
an' if th's anything we can do " 

"I'm all right, lads, right as a trivet. 
Never was more comfortable in my life, and 
I've no intention of leaving Sparburgh, none 
at all. In fact " — he said, slowly — " I 
shouldn't be a bit surprised if I was to settle 
down here for the rest of my life." 

"That'll suit us down to the ground, 
Cap'n. There's not a man of us but'd be 
sorry if you was to go, whether it was up or 
down or any which way. Right here on 
Sparburgh beach is the place we wants you." 

"Thank'ee, my lads," said the Captain. 
"That's a nice little house in the trees 
yonder back of the hedge. Who does it 
belong to ? " 

" Nicest little house in all Sparburgh," said 
Jim. " Reg'lar nest for a tired sea captain, 
with a bit of turf in front as smooth as a 
quarter-deck and a ship's mast in the middle 
just t' make 'im feel at 'ome. It b'longs to 
Chivings, the lawyer. He's dead, and his 
nevvy what got all the prop'ty he's a-makin' 
ducks and drakes of it up in Lunnon. Im- 
provin' prop'ty too," said Jim, with a knowing 
nod. " You sneck it, Cap'n, 'fore someone 
else comes along an' raises the price." 
• " I'll go and have another look at it," said 
the Captain. " How's Captain Barlow to-day?" 

"His rhumatiz is very bad, an' so's 'is 
temper. Can't move and won't lie still, and 
cussin' don't 'elp him one bit." 

by Google 

" I'll drop in and see him as I come back," 
and the Captain went along to hang over the 
green gate of Rose Cottage, as he had already 
hung there many times already, dreaming 
dreams and heaving sighs. 

"That's it, lads, he's finding th' Miss 
Graynes a bit narrer, an' he's wantin' wider 
quarters. An' quite right, too. How'd you 
expect a passel o' passon's daughters t' under- 
stand right a man what's bin all 'is life at 
sea ? 'Tain't to be expected." 

Then there came one dark night of revela- 
tion in the winter, when the wind howled 
round the little grey house and bellowed 
in the chimneys, and the mighty waves 
thundered up the beach till terra firma was 
firm no longer, but shuddered beneath the 
fierce blows, and the back-rushing surge on 
the shingle was like the roar of a stone-slide 
in the Alps. Through the tumult of the 
storm came the quick, impatient clang of 
the lifeboat bell, agonized heart-beats ringing 
through a metal tongue, drawing men with 
an appeal that none might resist. 

Captain Barnacle clapped on his big grey 
hat, slammed the front door, and ran with 
the rest. 

"He's gone!" said Miss Faith, with 
clasped hands. 

" Of course," said Miss Charity. " He's 
a man and a sailor." 

" I hope he'll not get into any danger," 
said Miss Hope. 

And after a time Miss Charity got up 
restlessly and said, " I — I — think Til just 
run down and see what's happening, girls," 
and she threw a thick shawl round her head 
and slammed the front door and bent and 

The crew was formed before the Captain 
got there, but Jim Thoroway, second cox — 
for Captain Billy Barlow was still down with 
the rheumatism — spied him at once and 
called out, "Come and take charge of her, 
Cap ? n ? " 

" Not me, lad. You're better up to it than 
I am." 

" You'll come, Cap'n ? " cried half-a-dozen 

" Aye, aye, lads, I'll come," and almost be- 
fore he knew it he was inside a cork jacket 
and minus his hat, which blew away as he 
topped the side, and found himself sitting on 
a grating between Jim and another who stood 
holding the steering-ropes. 

He saw a rocket cut a fiery curve in the 
sky to windward, and above his head the sails 
hummed like drums. The boat, big as it 
looked ashore, kicked and reared and shud- 




dered, and pitched to and fro like a cork. 
The air was full of roaring confusion. 
Captain Barnacle felt more uncomfortable 
than ever he had felt before in all his 
adventurous life. He felt sick and dizzy. 

"Get ; em off, lads! Get 'em! Every 
man of 'em* We must have 'em, every one. 
Hold on there ! We're coming M 

Then the plunging lug of the lifeboat 
came down with a run as they ran in under 


His skin was all a-bristle, his eyes strained 
wildly, and seemed like to fall out of his 
head ; his hair was plastered down on his 
forehead with perspiration and salt sea-spray. 
A great fear possessed him that he was going 
to disgrace himself by being sea-sick* 

Suddenly Thoroway stooped to his car and 

bellowed, "Shall we work in under- or 

beat wind'ard drop down ? n 

'* Get in quick," shouted the Captain, since 
getting in quick tended to getting back quick 
and the salvation of his sailorly honour. 

Then of a sudden he caught sight of the 
ship they were making for, and after that he 
had no more thought for himself. She was 
lying on a bidden bank of sand, almost on 
her beam ends, and the seas on the other 
side were thrashing over her with the 
noise of thunder and the white-fanged 
venom of hungry wolves. She was breaking 
up rapidly. The crew had succeeded in 
lighting a blue flare under the break of the 
poop, and by its ghastly light their des- 
perate situation was made plainly visible. 
Captain Barnacle saw and never forgot. The 
sight drove him frantic. He sprang up and 
danced wildly about. He tossed his arms 
and shouted incoherent exhortations to the 
men in the boat and the men on the wreck. 

by Google 

the lee of the wreck, And as the sail 
came down the mizzen-yard caught Captain 
Barnacle full on the crown of his head and 
ended his doings for that night 

When he came to he was in his own bed, 
though it took him some time to find that 
out For it seemed to him that the storm 
was still roaring and the sails still drumming 
just above him, as he had heard them in the 
boat But it was his own head, all nicely 
stitched and bandaged up, that was hum- 
ming, and the big storm had travelled half 
across the globe before his wits were quite 
his own a^ain. 

M Have we got 'em ? ?J were his first words ; 
and when Miss Charity gently reassured him 
on that point he went to sleep again. 

She had met the heavy footsteps at the 
door with foreboding at her heart. 

" Is he dead ? ; * she gasped, as the shining 
oilskins carried him in, 

"No, miss, on'y got his J ead broke. 
Doctorll be here in a minute t s see V 7 im. I le 
got excited about the wreck, and the mizzen- 
yard 'it 'im on the *ead as it came down. 
We'd best carry J im right up to's bed ? ' 

"Oh, please, do, 7 ' said Miss Charity and 
Mtss Faith, fluttering round like a pair of 
troubled hens, And when the doctor came 




in he said it was a nasty knock, and there 
was probably slight concussion of the brain. 
He did what was necessary, and assured the 
anxious ladies that all that was needed was 
quiet and careful nursing, and that the 
Captain was a fortunate man to be in such 
good hands. 

It was some days before the Captain was 
out on the front again, Jim Thoroway came 
up at once and thanked him heartily for his 
advice in connection with the wreck, "Them 
men owes their lives to you, Cap'n Barnacle," 
snid Jim. ** I was in two minds which was 
best thing to do — to work in under J cm or 
beat up to wind'ard and drop down on the 
cable. Then you ups and says, c Get in 
quick, 1 and you was right, Cap'n, for she 
broke up ay we got tlV last man off, and if 
we'd wasted time beating up to wind'ard 
we wouldn't ha 1 got one of 'em." 

The Captain was mightily pleased at this, 
and when he insisted on doubling each man's 
pay for that night's work :ill along shore was 
mightily pleased as well 

The winter months were a dead and 
dreary time as a rule in Spar burgh, but this 
winter was an exception, in the little grey 
house at all events. For the Captain's cheer- 
ful presence and the endless fund of per- 
sonal reminiscence enlivened it to such an 
extent that the three 
Miss Graynes hardly 
knew either the little grey 
house or their little grey 
selves. Compared with 
him the Colonel had been 
nothing but a troublesome 
humour clothed in frail 
human flesh and many 
grievances. Captain 
Barnacle had not appar- 
ently a grievance in the 
world. He found life very 
pleasant, and took the 
greatest delight in making 
other people happy, 
whether it was by dis- 
tributing pennies to the 
longshore children on the 
front, or twist to the long- 
shore men themselves, or 
an occasional packet of 
tea to the longshore 
women, who lived in the 
little cottages which the 
newer houses had elbowed 
out of sight. 

It would have been 
very remarkable, of course, 

and might have given rise to rumours of dis- 
content on his part which he was very far 
from feeling, if his benefactions had not 
extended to his landladies. But he loaded 
them with kindnesses to such an extent that 
the two elder sisters became quite convinced 
in their own minds that he had got his eye 
on "dear Charity," and that that giddy child 
was to be vouchsafed another chance of 
happiness. They discussed the matter when 
she was not there, and exchanged many a 
knowing look as she told them of the 
Captain's latest sayings and doings upstairs. 

The present of a paper bag of crisp pink 
shrimps was looked upon by them as in the 
nature of a billet-doux. A brilliant lobster, 
hot from the pot, they considered as within 
measurable distance of a declaration of love. 
When spring arrived, and Charity oime 
down now and again with radiant bunches 
of flowers, which brought something of the 
brightness and fragrance of life into the little 
kitchen -parlour and set six soft eyes sparkling 
mistily — not so much at the flowers them- 
selves as at the friendliness which had sent 
them, for to the lonely the thoughtful ness of 
a friend is a foretaste of Heaven — then Miss 
Faith and Miss Hope only waited from day to 
day for an official announcement from above. 

" Ur-r-rh ! a-herr-r-r-rh ! " said Captain 


1 IF vog— WUJL vou— t" 

Original from 



Barnacle, clearing his throat one evening as 
Miss Charity was taking away his tea-things. 
" Ef — do you know a little house .on the 
front called * Rose Cottage,' Miss Charity ? 
It's got green shutters and a green gate and a 
flagstaff on the lawn." 

44 Yes, I know it, Captain. It's a pretty 
little house. It used to belong to Mr. 
Chivings, the lawyer." 

" That's it. Pretty little house, isn't it ? " 
— he was slowly ramming tobacco into his 
pipe, and his eyes were fixed upon her in a 
gaze compounded of resolute purpose and 
shrinking timidity. " I've just bought it, 
Miss Charity." 

"Oh !" and Miss Charity set down 

the tray with a startled look and a flicker of 

colour in her cheeks. "I — I'm sorry . 

We shall miss you, Captain," she said, with 
a poor attempt "at a cheerful smile. 

"Not unless you say so, Miss Charity," 
said the Captain, boldly. 

"Why— how ?" began Miss Charity. 

" If— if you'll come and take charge of it, 
Miss Charity, you'll make me a very happy 
man. I've never been married, and I never 
met anyone I wanted for a wife so much as I 
want you " — so far bravely and well— "but 

— but " and the bold mariner floundered 

badly, and went first red, then white, and 
finally settled into the motley of extreme dis- 
tress. He touched bottom and gave a 
spasmodic kick upwards again like a drown- 
ing man. 

41 Before I can rightly ask you," he said, 
sturdily, " I've got to tell you something 
you ought to know. I'm not what you think 
I am." 

"Oh, Captain Barnacle!" gasped Miss 

" No, I'm not Captain Barnacle. That's 
only a nom -de- what -d'ye -call -it. I'm a 

" Oh, Captain Barn ! " and poor Miss 

Charity's hands clasped nervously and her 
innocent thoughts flew to piracy, murder, 
and sudden death, and such-like things. 
"You're not " but she could not say it. 

" I'm nothing dreadful," he said. " I've 
lived honest all my life, Miss Charity, until I 
came to Sparburgh, and then— well, it was 
this way, you see. Won't you please sit 
down, for I've got to go through with it now. 
I'd always wanted to be a sailor, you see, 
since the time I was so high. My grand- 
father was a sailor and my uncle was a 

sailor. But my father wouldn't have it. He 
knew too much about it. He set up in 
business, and got on. a bit, and he nailed 
me down to it too. I'm not saying but that 
it's been better for me from some points of 
view. A sailorman don't make any too much 
money these days. And I've made money. 
But all the same it was not the life I'd have 
lived if it had been left to myself, and I've 
always missed the other. The business was 
mixed up with the sailoring or, maybe, I'd 
have chucked it and gone. However, I 
stuck to it, because I had to at first, 
and then, when my father died, because 
I wanted to make money enough to be 
able to quit it. I sold it last year for 
,£25,000 to a company, and then, for 
the first time in my life, I was free to be 
a sailor. I was too old, of course, to be 
a real one, so 1 became a — er — well — I 
became Captain Barnacle, and I'm bound 
to say I've enjoyed myself more these last 
eight months than ever I did before in 
all my life put together, and" — very slowly 
and emphatically — "the time I've spent 
in this house has been the best of all. If 
you can forgive me, Miss Charity, for— for 
it all, I'd make you a good husband. I'm 
only fifty-eight. My real name's Ezra Seam, 
ship-store dealer, Wapping, and Ezra Seam's 
stores have as good a name as any in the 
trade <and better than most. No sailorman 
ever had his stomach turned with anything 
that passed through my hands, I warrant you. 

If you— will you ?" and he stretched 

out a brown hand to her. 

And Miss Charity, looking into his honest 
blue eyes, understood him fully, and loved 
him none the less for his simple assumption 
of a more heroic rdle than life had allotted 
to him. Her eyes were soft and bright as 
she put her hand into his and said, " You 
will always be Captain Barnacle to me, and I 
wouldn't have you anything else, Captain." 

They kept their secret from all the world, 
and went up to London to be married. 

Rose Cottage is the jolliest little house in 
Sparburgh. Captain Barnacle is still an 
institution on the front, and the delight of 
the longshoremen, who still tell how it was 
his quick insight and decision that saved the 
lives of the ten men on the brig Mary Brown, 
when she was breaking up on the sands. If 
you doubt my story you can read that cor- 
roboration of it, at all events, painted up on 
the tablets in Sparburgh lifeboat-house. 


by Google 

Original from 

The Way They Went to Paris. 


^HE Paris Exhibition has been 
a god-send to that curious 
class of the com in unity which 
delights in eccentric wagers 
fe and eccentricity of action gerv 
erally. To refer to the bets 
made in regard to the way of getting to the 
French capital- to describe these alone would 
occupy a goodly volume, especially if one 
attempted to record the adventures met wilh 
on the journey. 

The world seems to be made up, broadly 
speaking, of two sorts of people -those who 
are content to go on continually the old jog- 
trot way, and those who are always striving 
after some novelty in the manner of doing 
things, Of the latter .sort must have been 
the man who committed suicide because he 
got tired of getting up and dressing every 
day of his life. If that man had lived until 
the present year of grace he would have been 
delighted with the carnival of novelty in- 
spired and encouraged by the Exhibition ; 
and if he had not been one of those to set 
out for Paris in some unheard-of way he 
would at least have had his bet on some 
crank so proceeding. 

Perhaps that, after all, is the best use of 
an exhibition, for it stimulates originality, 

Digitized by Google 

which, of course, is the mother of 
invention. And there is no telling 
how much genius of this sort a 
certain eccentric Hungarian barber 
put, as it were, on its mettle. The 
barber in question wagered some 
nine months ago that he would walk 
from Budapest to Paris, visit the 
Exhibition, and see the sights, with- 
out expending a florin by the way, 
All lie took with him were the imple- 
ments of his trade, and he may be 
said to have literally cropped and 
shaved his way lo die ^reat show. 
He trimmed heads for his night's 
lodging, smoothed down chins for 
his drinks. One hopes he enjoyed 
his Exhibition, and got back again 
to the beautiful Hungarian capital in 
the best of health and spirits. 
The wager of this " scissorial 
artist '*■ — the + description used to be over 
l he door of a barber at Cannes — was duly 
heralded in the Continental papers, and was 
at once the signal for the making of a host 
of similar fantastic bets. 

The first to follow his example was a 
Vienna coachman, who undertook, against a 
handsome wager, to walk from the Austrian 
capital to Paris, pushing a wheelbarrow 
before him. He succeeded in his effort, and 
netted a nice sum for his pains. Every 


Original from 



niaht he sent a wire to the hotel where his 
bet had been made* recording the progress 
of his journey and the distance covered. 

Less fortunate was a fellow-citizen who 
started for the city on the Seine walking 
backwards* He, too, would probably have 
won his wager had not the police stepped in 
when he had don^ twenty- five miles and 



arrested him as a person of unsound mind, 
'Hits shows the superiority of our English 
police. They would have seen him safely 
over the dangerous 
crossings and let 
him proceed, with 
a blessing, 

Vienna is noted 
for its ** cranks." 
It is said to have 
twice as many as 
Chicago, Two of 
them came to the 
fore in the race of 
eccentricity for 
going to Paris, One 
was a merchant, 
the other a restau- 
rant - keeper, and 
they made a wager 
for 5,000 crowns 
that they would 
reach the Exhibi- 
tion on foot within 
two months, trun- 
dling before them 
all the way a huge 


which, al- 
though empty, 
weighed over 
5001b. The 
barrel was 
decorated with 
the arms of 
Vienna and 
Paris, and was 
stamped with 
the date 
» 1900." Al- 
though these 
covered eigh- 
teen miles a 
day, they cut matters pretty fine, only enter- 
ing the Vincennes gate of the fair city a few 
hours before the stipulated time. 

Grate, a Styrian town, also produced its 
pair of humorists, but in this case, like the 
pairs that went into the ark, they were male 

and female. The 
bet in this instance 
was to the effect 
that the twain 
would do the whole 
of the journey on 
one pair of legs, 
the idea being, of 
course, that one 
would carry the 
other. As a matter 
of fact, all the 
carrying was dune 
by the husband, 
but whether they 
got all the way to 
Paris, or, indeed, 
how far they went, 
history — that is, 
the newspaper - 
sayeth not. 

There is no 
doubt, however, in 
that respect as to 





the achievement of a Dutch- 
man named Van Der Bosch. 
The worthy in question 
wagered and won a consider- 
able sum of money that he 
would walk from Amsterdam 
to the Paris Exhibition on a 
pair of high stilts without once 
taking them off en route. He 
accomplished his object easily, 
and with plenty of time to 
spare, the stilts allowing him 
to get forward with great ex- 
pedition. Metaphorically he 
"did it on his head," and, 
according to his own state- 
ment, would do it again with 
pleasure for half the money — 
provided he could be sure of 
convenient sleeping quarters. 

As it was, his stilts made him so tall that 
he could enter neither inn, tavern, nor farm- 
house. He was obliged to sleep as best he 
might by the wayside, and 
after lying on the ground 
two or three times he 
found the difficulty of get- 
ting on to his feet again 
so trying that afterwards 
he preferred to 
recline on the 
roof of a house, if 
he could find one 
convenient, al- 
lowing his "legs" 
to rest on the 
ground. In lieu 
of a house — and 
in some respects 
preferable — he 
found a hay-stack 
almost all that 
could be desired. 
Almost — for un- 
fortunately, on 
one occasion a 
woman, seeing 
his stilts against 
the side of a 
stack, and not 
seeing the man on the top of them, began to 
hack off the end of one for firewood. Van 
Der Bosch's most pathetic reminiscence, 
however, was of the attempt he was once 
compelled to make to sleep on or against 
a tree. 

From a Belgian city — Ltege says one 
paper — a most impressive little turn-out set 
forth Paris-wards. It consisted of the family 

*'a most impressive little turn-out. 

go-cart, in whigh the wife was to trundle her 

worse half. There was a good round sum 

on the event ; but the husband was so 

* thoroughly— and deservedly— jeered on the 

way by everybody they met, 

that at the end of the second 

day he threw up the game. 

Another crank — this time an 
Ent;lishman — was compelled 
to lose his wager from another 
cause. He was a resident of 
Oporto, and after dining ex- 
cellently at his club he offered 
to bet anyone present that he 
would visit the Paris Exhi- 
bition on his hands and knees, 
if it were made worth his 
while. As a matter of fact, 
he actually started off, and it 
being night-time, he managed 
to reach the city confines ; 


by LiOOgLC 





but there he was promptly taken into custody 
by two unsympathetic Portuguese policemen, 
France itself lias furnished quite a number 
of eccentrics who 
have visited Paris in a 
more or less original 
manner. An Amiens 
family, consisting of 
father, mother, two 
sons, and two daugh- 
ters— the latter being 
grown-up girls — put 
on roller skates, and 
without once taking 
them off landed safely 
at the Exhibition. 
They were met there 
by a huge crowd of 
enthusiastic fellow- 
citizens, who bad 
themselves preferred 
to accomplish the 
journey by the more 
prosaic train* 

Another little family 
party must have given 
the Parisians the idea 

that the Ark had just opened its doors. For 
the members of the family in question ~ 
seven in number— made their journey to the 
Exhibition each on a 
different description 
of quadruped. The 
head and commander 
of the whole rode a 
horse, the mother sat 
comfortably on a 
pillioned ass, a son 
bestrode a lusty steer, 
and the rest of the 
family were mounted 
severally on a sheep, 
a goat, an ostrich, and 
a large dog. The 

whole thing may have been pour rh? y as 
our French friends would say, or, as was 
suggested, as an advertisement, the eccentric 

family being in the 
show line. 

Equally eccentric, 
surely, must have 
been the couple who 
^ elected to go to Paris 

^ with the one-wheeled 
coach, *>♦, a barrow, 
one being an inside 
passenger, the other 
acting as horse — or 
was it ass? — and 
driver at the same 
time. One could have 
understood it better 
if the twain had been 
"a lover and his lass," 
but the records have 
it down in black and 
white as husband and 

Thousands of 
on roller skated* cyclists, of course, and 

automobilists without 
number, have negotiated distances of four 
hundred mites and upwards in getting to 
the Exhibition ; but it was left to a Viennese 

Johan Sonnenblume 
by name, to cover the 
distance on foot, but 
under really sporting 
conditions. This 
pedestrian is already 
fifty-nine years of age, 
but yet he covered 
the distance from one 
capital to the other 
in seventeen days, or 
at the rate of fifty 
miles a day. 


by Google 

Original from 

The First Men in the Moon. 

By H. G. Wells. 






REMEMBER how one day 
Caver suddenly opened six of 
our shutters and blinded me 
so that I cried aloud at him. 
The whole area was moon, a 
stupendous scimitar of white 
dawn with its edge hacked out by notches of 
darkness, the crescent shore of an ebbing 
tide of darkness, out of which peaks and 
pinnacles came climbing into the blaze of 
the sun. I take it the reader has seen 
pictures or photographs of the moon, so that 
I need not describe the broader features of 
that landscape, those spacious, ring like ranges 
vaster than any terrestrial mountains, their 
summits shining in the day, their shadows 
harsh and deep; the grey, disordered plains, 
the ridges, hills, and craterlets ail passing at 
last from a blazing illumination into a 
common mystery of black. Athwart this 
world we were flying scarcely a hundred miles 
above its crests and pinnacles. And now we 
could see what no eye on earth will ever see, 
that under the blaze of the day the harsh out- 
lines of the rocks and ravines of the plains 
and crater floor grew grey and indistinct 
under a thickening haze, that the white of 
their lit surfaces broke into lumps and 
patches and broke again and shrank and 
vanished, and that here and there strange 
tints of brown and olive grew and spread. 

But little time we had for watching then. 
For now we had come to the real danger of 
our journey. We had to drop ever closer to 
the moon as we spun about it, to slacken our 
pace and watch our chance until at last we 
could dare to drop upon its surface. 

For Cavor that was a time of intense 
exertion ; for me it was an anxious inactivity. 
I seemed perpetually to be getting out of his 
way. He leapt about the sphere from point 
to point with an agility that would have been 
impossible on earth. He was perpetually 
opening and closing the Cavorite windows, 
making calculations, consulting his chrono- 
meter by means of the glow-lamp during 
those last eventful hours. For a long time 
we had all our windows closed, and hung 
silently in darkness, hurtling through 

Then he was feeling for the shutter studs, 
and suddenly four windows were open, I 
staggered and covered my eyes> drenched 

and scorched and 

blinded by the unaccus- 

Copyright, Uy H. G, Wdls, in 

Corned splendour of the sun beneath my feet. 
Then again the shutters snapped, leaving my 
brain spinning in a darkness that pressed 
against the eyes. And after that I floated in 
another vast black silence. 

Then Cavor switched on the electric light, 
and told me he proposed to bind all our 
luggage together with the blankets about it, 
against the concussion of our descent. We 
did this with our windows closed, because in 
that way our goods arranged themselves 
naturally at the centre of the sphere. That, 
too, was a strange business : we two men 
floating loose in that spherical space and 
packing and pulling ropes, Imagine it if 
you can ! No up or down, and every effort 
resulting in unexpected movements. Now I 
would be pressed against the glass with the 
full force of Cavor's thrust ; now I would 
be kicking helplessly in a void. Now the 
star of the electric light would be over* 
head, now under foot Now Cavors feet 
would float up before my eyes, and now we 
would be cross ways to each other. But at 
last our goods were safely bound together in 
a big soft bale, all except two blankets with 
head holes that we were to wrap about 

Then for a flash Cavor opened a window 
moomvard, and we saw T that we were dropping 
towards a huge central crater, with a number 
of minor craters grouped in a sort of cross 
about it And then again Cavor flung our 
little sphere open to the scorching, blinding 
sun* I think he was using the sun's attrac- 
' tion as a brake. " Cover yourself with a 
blanket,' 5 he cried, thrusting himself from me, 
and for a moment I did not understand. 

Then I hauled the blanket from beneath 
my feet and got it about me and over my 
head and eyes. Abruptly he closed the 
shutters again, snapped one open again, and 
closed it ; then suddenly began snapping 
them all open, each safely into its steel roller* 
There came a jar, and then we were rolling 
over and over, bumping against the glass and 
against the big bale of our luggage, and 
clutching at each other ; and outside some 
white substance splashed as if we were 
rolling down a slope of snow. . . . . 

Over, clutch, bump r clutch, bump, over* . . 

Came a thud, and I was half buried under 
the bale of our possessions, and for a space 
everything was still. Then I could hear 
Cavor puffing and grunting and the snapping 
of a shutter in its sash. I made an effort, 

lbs United Statef'i^iUvtSUt'i^il" 1 




thrust back our blanket - wrapped luggage, 
and emerged from beneath it. Our open 
windows were just visible as a deeper black 
set with stars. 

We were still alive, and we were lying in 
the darkness of the shadow of the wall of the 
great crater into which we had fallen. 

We sat getting our breath again and feel- 
ing the bruises on our limbs. I don't 
think either of us had had a very clear 
expectation of such rough handling as we had 
received. I struggled painfully to my feet. 
41 And now," said I, " to look at the land- 
scape of the moon ! But ! It's tremen- 
dously dark, Cavor ! " 

The glass was dewy, and as I spoke I 
wiped at it with my blanket "We're half 
an hour or so beyond the day," he said. 
" We must wait." 

It was impossible to distinguish anything. 

Digitized by GoOglC 

We might have 
been in a sphere 
of steel for all that 
we could see. My 
rubbing with the 
blanket simply 
smeared the glass, 
and as fast as I 
wiped it it became 
opaque again with 
freshly - condensed 
moisture mixed 
with an increasing 
quantity of blanket 
hairs. Of course 
I ought not to have 
used the blanket. 
In my efforts to 
clear the glass I 
slipped upon the 
damp surface and 
hurt my shin 
against one of the 
oxygen cylinders 
that protruded 
from our bale. 

The thing was 
exasperating — it 
was absurd. Here 
we were just 
arrived upon the 
moon, amidst we 
knew not what 
wonders, and all we 
could see was the 
grey and streaming 
wall of the bubble 
in which we had 
"Confound it," I said, "but at this rate 

we might have stopped at home ! " and I 

squatted on the bale and shivered and drew 

my blanket closer about me. 

Abruptly the moisture turned to spangles 

and fronds of frost. " Can you reach the 

electric heater?" said Cavor. "Yes — that 

black knob. Or we shall freeze." 

I did not wait to be told twice. " And 

now," said I, " what are we to do ? " 
" Wait," he said. 
" Of course. We shall have to wait until 

our air gets warm again, and then this glass 

will clear. We can't do anything till then. 

It's night here yet— we must wait for the day 

to overtake us. Meanwhile, don't you feel 

hungry ? " 

For a space I did not answer him, but sat 

fretting. I turned reluctantly from the 






smeared puzzle of the glass and stared at his 
face. *' Yes," I said, u I am hungry. I feel 
somehow enormously disappointed. I had 

expected- . I don't know what I had 

expected, but not this," 

I summoned my philosophy, and, rearrang- 
ing my blanket about me, sat down on the 
bale again and began pay first meal on the 
moon. I don't think I finished it — I forget. 
Presently, first in patches, then running 
rapidly together into wider spaces, came the 
clearing of the glass, came the drawing of 
the misty veil that hid the moon-world from 
Our eyes. 

We peered out upon the landscape of the 



As we saw it first it was the wildest and 
most desolate of scenes. We were in an 
enormous amphitheatre, a vast circular plain, 
the floor of the giant crater. Its cliff-like 
walls closed us in on every side, From the 
westward the light of the unseen sun fell 
upon them, reaching to the very foot of the 
cliff, and showed a disordered escarpment of 

Digitized by Lit 

drab and greyish rock, lined here and there 
with banks and crevices of snow. This was, 
perhaps, a dozen miles away, but at first no 
intervening atmosphere diminished in the 
slightest the minutely-detailed brilliancy with 
which these things glared at us. They stood 
out clear and dazzling against a background 
of starry blackness that seemed to our earthly 
eyes rather a gloriously-spangled velvet curtain 
than the spaciousness of the sky. 

•The eastward cliff was at first merely a 
starless selvedge to the starry dome. No 
rosy flush, no creeping pallor, announced the 
commencing day. Only the Corona, the 
Zodiacal light, a huge, cone shaped, luminous 
haze, pointing up towards the splendour of 
the morning star, warned us of the imminent 
nearness of the sum 

Whatever light was about us was reflected 
by the westward cliffs. It showed n huge, 
undulating plain, cold and grey— a grey that 
deepened eastward into the absolute raven 
darkness of the cliff shadow, innumerable 
rounded grey summits, ghostly hummock?, 
billows of snowy substance, stretching crest 
beyond crest into the remote obscurity, gave 
us our first inkling of the distance of the 




crater waH. Theae hummocks looked like 
snow. At the time I thought they were snow. 
But they were not — they were mounds and 
masses of frozen air ! 

So it was at first, and then, sudden, swift, 
and amazing, came the lunar day. 

The sunlight had crept down the cliff, 
it touched the drifted masses at its base, 
and incontinently came striding with seven- 
leagued boots towards us. The distant cliff 
seemed to shift and quiver, and at the touch 
of the dawn a reek of grey vapour poured 
upward from the crater floor, whirls and puffs 
and drifting wraiths of grey, thicker and 
broader and denser, until at last the whole 
westward plain was steaming like a wet hand- 
kerchief held before the fire, and the west- 
ward cliffs were no more than a refracted 
glare beyond. 

" It is air," said Cavor. " It must be air 
- or it would not rise like this — at the mere 
touch of a sunbeam. And at this pace . . ." 

He peered upwards. " Look ! " he said. 

"What?" I asked. 

" In the sky. Already. On the blackness 
— a little touch of blue. See ! The stars 
seem larger. And the little ones and all 
those dim nebulosities we saw in empty 
space — they are hidden ! " 

Swiftly, steadily, the day approached us. 
Grey summit after grey summit was overtaken 
by the blase, and turned to a smoking white 
intensity. At last there was nothing to the 
west of us but a bank of surging fog, the 
tumultuous advance and ascent of cloudy 
haze. The distant cliff had receded farther 
and farther, had loomed and changed through 
the whirl, had foundered and vanished at 
last in its confusion. 

Nearer came that steaming advance, nearer 
and nearer, coming as fast as the shadow of 
a cloud before the south-west wind. About 
us rose a thin, anticipatory haze. 

Cavor gripped my arm. 

"What?" I said. 

41 Look ! The sunrise ! The sun ! " 

He turned me about and pointed to the 
brow of the eastward cliff, looming above the 
haze about us, scarce lighter than the dark- 
ness of the sky. But now its line was 
marked by strange reddish shapes — tongues 
of vermilion aflame that writhed and danced. 
I fancied it must be spirals of vapour that' 
had caught the light and made this crest of 
fiery tongues against the sky, but, indeed, it 
was the solar prominences I saw, a crown of 
fire about the sun that is for ever hidden 
from earthly eyes by our atmospheric veil. 

And then — the sun ! 

Vol. xxi.— 6. 

Digitized by GOOgle 

Steadily, inevitably, came a brilliant line — 
came a thin edge of intolerable effulgence 
that took a circular shape, became a bow, 
became a blazing sceptre, and hurled a shaft 
of heat at us as though it were a spear. 

It seemed verily to stab my eyes ! I cried 
aloud and turned about blinded, groping for 
my blanket beneath the bale. 

And with that incandescence came a 
sound, the first sound that had reached us 
from without since we left the earth, a 
hissing and rustling, the stormy trailing of 
the aerial garment of the advancing day. 
And with the coming of the sound and the 
light the sphere lurched, and, blinded and 
dazzled, we staggered helplessly against each 
other. It lurched again, and the hissing 
grew louder. I had shut my eyes perforce ; 
I was making clumsy efforts to cover my 
head with my blanket, and this second 
lurch sent me helplessly off my feet I fell 
against the bale, and, opening my eyes, 
had a momentary glimpse of the air just 
outside our glass. It was running — it 
was boiling — like snow into which a white* 
hot rod is thrust. What had been solid 
air had suddenly, at the touch of the sun, 
become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, 
that hissed and bubbled into gas. 

There came a still more violent whirl of 
the sphere, and we had clutched one another. 
In another moment we were spun about 
again. Round we went and over, and then 
I was on all fours. The lunar dawn had 
hold of us. It meant to show us little men 
what the moon could do with us. 

I caught a second glimpse of things 
without, puffs of vapour, half-liquid slush, 
excavated, sliding, falling, sliding. We 
dropped into darkness. I went down with 
Cavor's knees in my chest. Then he seemed 
to fly away from me, and for a moment I lay, 
with all the breath out of my body, staring 
upward. A huge landslip, as it were, of the 
melting stuff had splashed over us, buried 
us, and now it thinned and boiled off us. I 
saw the bubbles dancing on the glass above. 
I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly. 

Then some huge landslip in the thawing 
air had caught us and, spluttering expostula- 
tion, we began to roll down a slope, rolling 
faster and faster, leaping crevasses and re- 
bounding from banks, faster and faster, 
westward into the white-hot boiling tumult of 
the lunar day. 

Clutching at one another we spun about, 
pitched this way and that, our bale of 
packages leaping at us, pounding at us. We 
collided, we gripped, we were torn asunder — 





our heads met, and the whole universe burst 
into fiery darts and stars ! On the earth we 
should have smashed one another a dozen 
times, but on the moon luckily for us our 
weight was only one-sixth of what it is ter- 
restrially, and we fell very mercifully. I recall 
a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if 
my brain were upside down within my skull, 
and then 

Something was at work upon my face ; 
some thin feelers worried my ears. Then I 
discovered the brilliance of the landscape 
around was mitigated by blue spectacles, 
Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face 


upside down, his eyes also pn> 
tected by tinted goggles. His 
breath came irregularly, and his 
lip was bleeding from a bruise. 
"Better?" he said, wiping the 
blood with the back of his hand. 

Everything seemed swaying for 
a space, but that was simply my 
giddiness. T perceived that he 
had closed some of the shutters 
in the outer sphere to save me 
from the direct blaze of the sun. 
I was aware that everything about 
us was very brilliant. 

" Lord ! " I gasped, " Rut 
this -» 

I craned my neck to see, I 
perceived there was a blinding 
glare outside, an utter change 
from the gloomy darkness of our 
first impressions, " Have I been 
insensible long ? " I a^ked, 

" I don't know — the chrono- 
meter is broken. Some little time 
, . . , My dear chap ! I have 
been afraid ..../* 

I lay for a space taking this 
in. I saw his face still bore 
evidences of emotion, For a while 
I said nothing. I passed an 
inquisitive hand over my con- 
tusions, and surveyed his face for 
similar damages. The hack of 
my right hand had suffered most, 
and was skinless and raw. My 
forehead was bruised and had 
bled. He handed me a little 
measure with some of the restor- 
ative — I forget the name of it — be 
had brought with us. After a 
time I felt a little better- I began 
to stretch my limbs carefully. 
Soon I could talk. 

" It wouldn't have done," 1 said, 
as though there had been no interval. 
"No, it wouidrif" 

He thought, his hands hanging over his 
knees. He peered through the glass and 
then stared at me. "Good Lord !" he said. 

11 What has happened?" I asked, after a 
pause ; *' have we jumped to the tropics ? " 

" It was as I expected. This air has 
evaporated. If it is air. At any rate it has 
evaporated, and the surface of the moon is 
shewing. We are lying on a bank of earthy 
rock. Here and there bare soil is exposed ; 
a queer sort of soil" 

It occurred to him that it was unnecessary 
Original from 




to explain. He assisted me into a sitting 
position, and I could see with my own eyes. 



The harsh emphasis, the pitiless black and 
white of the scenery, had altogether dis- 
appeared. The glare of the sun had taken 
upon . itself a faint tinge of amber; the 
;shadows upon the cliff of the crater wall were 
deeply purple. To the eastward a dark bank 
of fog still crouched and sheltered from the 
sunrise, but to the westward the sky was 
blue and clear. I began to realize the 
length of my insensibility. 

We were no longer in a void. An atmo- 
sphere had arisen about us. The outline of 
things had gained in character, had grown 
acute and varied ; save for a shadowed space 
of white substance here and there, white 
substance that was no longer air but snow, 
the Arctic appearance had gone altogether. 
Everywhere broad, rusty-brown spaces of 
bare and tumbled earth spread to the blaze 
of the sun. Here and there at the edge of 
the snow-drifts were transient little pools and 
eddies of water, the only things stirring in 
that expanse of barrenness. The sunlight 
inundated the upper two-thirds of our sphere 
and turned our climate to high summer, but 
our feet were still in shadow and the sphere 
was lying upon a drift of snow. 

And scattered here and there upon the 
slope, and emphasized by little white threads 
of unthawed snow upon their shady sides, 
were shapes like sticks — dry, twisted sticks 
of the same rusty hue as the rock upon 
which they lay. That caught one's thoughts 
sharply. Sticks ! On a lifeless world ? 
Then as my eye grew more accustomed to 
the texture of their substance I perceived 
that almost all this surface had a fibrous 
texture, like the carpet of brown needles 
one fipds beneath the shade of pine 

" Caver ! " I said. 

"Yes i!tf 
. " It may be a dead world now — but 
once %\ 

Something arrested my attention. I had 
discovered among these needles a number of 
little round objects. And it seemed to me 
that one of these had moved. 

"Cavor,'' I whispered. 

" What?" 

But I did not answer at once. I stared 
incredulous. For an instant I could not 
believe my eyes. I gave an inarticulate cry. 
I gripped his arm. I pointed. " Look ! " I 


cried, finding my tongue. " There ! Yes ! 
And there ! " 

His eyes followed my pointing finger. 
"Eh? 5 ' he said. 

How can I describe the thing I saw? It 
is so petty a thing to state, and yet it seemed 
so wonderful, so pregnant with emotion. I 
have said that amidst the stick-like litter were 
these rounded bodies, these little oval bodies 
that might have passed as very small pebbles. 
And now first one and then another had 
stirred, had rolled over and cracked, and 
down the crack of each of them showed a 
minute line of yellowish green, thrusting 
outward to meet the hot encouragement of 
the newly-risen sun. For a moment that was 
all, and then there stirred and burst a third ! 

"It is a seed," said Cavor. And then I 
heard him whisper, very softly, " Life ! " 

" Life !" and immediately it poured upon 
us that our vast journey had not been 
made in vain, that we had come to no arid 
waste of minerals, but to a world that lived 
and moved ! We watched intensely. I 
remember I kept rubbing the glass before 
me with my sleeve, jealous of the faintest 
suspicion of mist. 

The picture was clear and vivid only in the 
middle of the field. All about that centre the 
dead fibres and seeds were magnified and 
distorted by the curvature of the glass. But 
we could see enough ! One after another all 
down the sunlit slope these miraculous little 
brown bodies burst and gaped apart, like 
seed-pods, like the husks of fruits ; opened 
eager mouths that drank in the heat and 
light pouring in a cascade from the newly- 
risen sun. 

Every moment more of these seed-coats 
ruptured, and even as they did so the swelling 
pioneers overflowed their rent-distended seed- 
cases and passed into the second stage of 
growth. With a steady assurance, a swift 
deliberation, these amazing seeds thrust a 
rootlet downward to the earth and a queer 
little bundle-like bud into the air. In a little 
while the whole slope was dotted with minute 
plantlets standing at attention in the blaze of 
the sun. 

They did not stand for long. The bundle- 
like buds swelled and strained and opened 
with a jerk, thrusting out a coronet of little 
sharp tips, spreading a whorl of tiny, spiky, 
brownish leaves, that lengthened rapidly, 
lengthened visibly, even as we watched. The 
movement was slower than any animal's, 
swifter than any plant's I have ever seen 
before. How can I suggest it to you — the 
way that growth went on ? The leaf tips 
Original from 





grew so that they moved onward even while 
we looked at them. The brown seed-case 
shrivelled and was absorbed with an equal 
rapidity* Have you ever on a cold day taken 
a thermometer into your warm hand and 
watched the little thread of mercury creep up 
the tube ? These moon-plants grew like 

In a few minutes, as it seemed, the buds 
of the more forward of these plants had 
lengthened into a stem, and were even 
putting forth a second whorl of leaves, and 
all the slope that had seemed so recently a 
lifeless stretch of litter was now dark with 
the stunted, olive-green herbage of bristling 
spikes that swayed with the vigour of their 

I turned about, and behold ! along the 
upper edge of a rock to the eastward a 
similar fringe, in a scarcely less forward con- 
dition, swayed and bent, dark against the 

by Google 

blinding glare of the sun, 
And beyond this fringe 
was the silhouette of a 
plnnt mass, .branching 
clumsily like a cactus and 
swelling visibly^ swelling 
like a bladder that fills 
with air* 

Then to the westward 
also I discovered that 
another such distended 
form was rising over the 
scrub, Hut here the light 
fell upon its sleek sides, 
and I could see that its 
colour was a vivid orange 
hue. It rose as one 
watched it; if one looked 
away from it for a minute 
and then back, its outline 
had changed : it thrust 
out blunt, congested 
branches, until in a little 
time it rose a corahline 
shape of many feet in 
height. Com pa red with 
such a growth the ter- 
restrial puff- ball, which 
will sometimes swell a 
foot in diameter in a 
single night, would be a 
hopeless laggard* But 
then the puff- ball grows 
against a gravitational [Hill 
six times that of the moon. 
Beyond, out of gullies and 
flats that had been hidden 
from us, but not from the 
quickening sun, over reefs and banks of shin- 
ing rock, a bristling beard of spiky and fleshy 
vegetation was straining into view, hurrying 
tumultously to take advantage of the brief 
day in which it must flower, and fruit, and 
seed again, and die. It was like a miracle, 
that growth. So, one must imagine, the 
trees and plants arose at the Creation, and 
covered the desolation of the new-made earth, 
Imagine it! Imagine that dawn! The 
resurrection of the frozen air, the stirring 
and quickening of the soil, and then this 
silent uprising of vegetation, this unearthly 
ascent of fleshliness and spikes. Conceive 
it all lit by a blaze that would make the 
intensest sunlight of earth seem watery and 
weak* And still amidst this stirring jungle 
wherever there was shadow lingered banks of 
bluish snow. And to have the picture of our 
impression complete you must bear in mind 
that we saw it all through a thick bent glass, 
Original from 




distorting it as things are distorted by a lens, 
acute only in the centre of the picture and 
very bright there, and towards the edge 
magnified and unreal. 



We ceased to gaze. We turned to each 
other, the same thought, the same question, 
in our eyes. For these plants to grow there 
must be some air, however attenuated — air 
that we also should be able to breathe. 

" The man-hole ? " I said. 

" Yes," said Cavor ; " if it is air we see ! " 

" In a little while," I said, " these plants 
will be as high as we are. Suppose — 

suppose, after all Is it certain ? How 

do you know that stuff is air ? It may 
be nitrogen ; it may be carbonic acid 
even ! " 

"That is easy," he said, and set about 
proving it. He produced a big piece of 
crumpled paper from the bale, lit it, and 
thrust it hastily through the man-hole valve. 
I bent forward and peered down through the 
thick glass for its appearance outside, that 
little flame on whose evidence depended so 
much ! 

I saw the paper drop out and lie lightly 
upon the snow. The pink flame of its 
burning vanished. For an instant it seemed 
to be extinguished . . . And then I saw a 
little blue tongue upon the edge of it that 
trembled and crept and spread ! 

Quietly the whole sheet, save where it lay 
in immediate contact with the snow, charred 
and shrivelled and sent up a quivering thread 
of smoke. There was no doubt left to me : 
the atmosphere of the moon was either pure 
oxygen or air, and capable therefore, unless 
its tenuity were excessive, of supporting our 
alien life. We might emerge — and live ! 

I sat down with my legs on either side of 
the man-hole and prepared to unscrew it, but 
Cavor stopped me. " There is first a little 
precaution," he said. He pointed out that, 
although it was certainly an oxygenated 
atmosphere outside, it might still be so 
rarefied as to cause us grave injury. He 
reminded me of mountain sickness and of 
the bleeding that often afflicts aeronauts 
who have ascended too swiftly, and he spent 
some time in the preparation of a sickly- 
tasting drink which he insisted on my 
sharing. It made me feel a little numb, but 
otherwise had no effect on me. Then he 
permitted me to begin unscrewing. 

Presently the glass stopper of the man-hole 
was so far undone that the denser air within 


our sphere began to escape along the thread 
of the screw, singing as a kettle sings before 
it boils. Thereupon he made me desist. It 
speedily became evident that the pressure 
outside was very much less than it was 
within. How much less it was we had no 
means of telling. 

I sat grasping the stopper with both hands, 
ready to close it again if, in spite of our 
intense hope, the lunar atmosphere should 
after all prove too rarefied for us, and Cavor 
sat with a cylinder of compressed oxygen at 
hand to restore our pressure. We looked 
at one another in silence, and then at the 
fantastic vegetation that swayed and grew 
visibly and noiselessly without. < And ever 
that shrill piping continued. 

The blood-vessels began to throb in my 
ears, and the sound of Ca\or , s movements 
diminished. I noted how still everything 
had become because of the thinning of the air. 

As our air sizzled out from the screw the 
moisture of it condensed in little puffs. 

Presently I experienced a peculiar short- 
ness of breath — that lasted, indeed, during 
the whole of the time of our exposure to 
the moon's exterior atmosphere, and a rather 
unpleasant sensation about the ears and 
finger-nails and the back of the throat grew 
upon my attention, and presently passed off 

But then came vertjgo and nausea that 
abruptly changed the quality of my courage. 
I gave the lid of the man-hole half a turn and 
made a hasty explanation to Cavor, but now 
he was the more sanguine. He answered me 
in a voice that seemed extraordinarily small 
and remote, because of the thinness of the 
air that carried the sound. He recommended 
a nip of brandy, and set me the example, 
and presently I felt better. I turned the 
man-hole stopper back again. The throbbing 
in my ears grew louder, and then I remarked 
that the piping note of the outrush had 
ceased. For a time I could not be sure that 
it had ceased. 

" Well ? " said Cavor, in the ghost of a 

"Well? "said I. 

" Shall we go on ? " 

I thought. "Is this all?" 

" If you can stand it." 

By way of answer I went on unscrewing. 
I lifted the circular operculum from its place 
and laid it carefully on the bale. A flake or 
so of snow whirled and vanished as that thin 
and unfamiliar air took possession of our 
sphere. I knelt and then seated myself at 
the edge of the man-hole, peering over it. 
Original from 




Beneath, within a yard of my face, lay the 
untrodden snow of the moon. 

There came a little pause. Our eyes met. 

" It doesn't distress your lungs too much?" 
said Cavor. 

" No," I said. " I can stand this." 

He stretched out his hand for his blanket, 
thrust his head through its central hole, and 
wrapped it about him. He sat down on the 
edge of the man-hole; he let his feet drop 
until they were within six inches of the 
lunar snow. He hesitated for a moment, then 
thrust himself forward, dropped these inter- 
vening inches, and stood upon the untrodden 
soil of the moon. 

As he stepped forward he was refracted 
grotesquely by the edge of the glass. He 
stood for a moment 
looking this way and 
that Then he drew 
himself together and 

The glass distorted 
everything, but it 
seemed to me even 
then to be an ex- 
tremely big leap. He 
had at one bound 
become remote. He 
seemed twenty or 
thirty feet off. He was 
standing high upon a 
rocky mass and gesti- 
culating back to me. 
Perhaps he was shout- 
ing — but the sound 
did not reach me. 
But how the deuce 
had he done this ? I 
felt like a man who 
has just seen a new 
conjuring trick. 

Still in a puzzled 
state of mind, I too 
dropped through the 
man - hole. I stood 
up. Just in front of 
me the snowdrift had 
fallen away and made 
a sort of ditch. I made 
a step and jumped. 

I found myself fly- 
ing through the air, 
saw the rock on which 
he stood coming to 
meet me, clutched it, 
and clung in a state 
of infinite amazement. 
I gasped a painful 

laugh. I was tremendously confused. Cavor 
bent down and shouted in piping tones for 
me to be careful. I had forgotten that on 
the moon, with only an eighth part of the 
earth's mass and a quarter of its diameter, 
my weight was barely a sixth what it was on 
earth. But now that fact insisted on being 

"We are out of Mother Earth's leading- 
strings now," he said. 

With a guarded effort I raised myself to 
the top and, moving as cautiously as a rheu- 
matic patient, stood up beside him under the 
blaze of the sun. The sphere lay behind us 
on its dwindling snowdrift thirty feet away. 

As far as the eye could see over the enor- 
mous disorder of rocks that formed the 

by Google 


Original from 



crater floor the same bristling scrub that 
surrounded us was starting into life, diversi- 
fied here and there by bulging masses of a 
cactus form, and scarlet and purple lichens 
that grew so fast they seemed to crawl over 
the rocks. The whole area of the crater 
seemed to me then to be one similar wilder- 
ness up to the very foot of the surrounding 

This cliff was apparently bare of vegetation 
save at its base, and with buttresses and 
terraces and platforms that did not very 
greatly attract our attention at the time. It 
was many miles away from us in every direc- 
tion ; we seemed to be almost at the centre 
of the crater, and we saw it through a certain 
haziness that drove before the wind. For 
there was even a wind now in the thin air — a 
swift yet weak wind that chilled exceedingly, 
but exerted little pressure. It was blowing 
round the crater, as it seemed, to the hot, 
illuminated side from the foggy darkness 
under the sunward wall. It was difficult to 
look into this eastward fog ; we had to peer 
with half-closed eyes beneath the shade of 
our hands, because of the fierce intensity of 
the motionless sun. 

" It seems to be deserted," said Cavor, 
"absolutely desolate." 

I looked about me again. I retained even 
then a clinging hope of some quasi-human 
evidence, some pinnacle of building, some 
house or engine ; but everywhere one looked 
spread the tumbled rocks in peaks and crests, 
and the darting scrub and those, bulging 
cacti that swelled and swelled, a flat negation 
as it seemed of all such hope. 

" It looks as though these plants had it to 
themselves," I said. " I see no trace of any 
other creature." 

" No insects — no birds — no ! Not a trace, 
not a scrap or particle of animal life. If 
there was— what would they do in the night? 
.... No ; there's just these plants alone." 

I shaded my eyes with my hand. " It's 
like the landscape of a dream. These things 
are less like earthly land plants than the 
things one imagines among the rocks at the 
bottom of the sea. Look at that, yonder ! 
One might imagine it a lizard changed into a 
plant. And the glare ! " 

"This is only the fresh morning," said 

He sighed and looked about him. "This 
is no world for men," he said. "And yet in 
a way it appeals." 

He became silent for a time, then com- 
menced his meditative humming. I started 
at a gentle touch, and found a thin sheet of 


livid lichen lapping over my shoe. I kicked 
at it and it fell to powder, and each speck 
began to grow. I heard Cavor exclaim 
sharply, and perceived that one of the fixed 
bayonets of the scrub had pricked him. 

He hesitated, his eyes sought among the 
rocks about us. A sudden blaze of pink had 
crept up a ragged pillar of crag. It was a 
most extraordinary pink, a livid magenta. 

" Look ! " said I, turning, and behold 
Cavor had vanished ! 

For an instant I stood transfixed. Then I 
made a hasty step to look over the verge of 
the rock. But, in my surprise at his dis- 
appearance, I forgot once more that we were 
on the moon. The thrust of my foot that I 
made in striding would have carried me a 
yard on earth ; on the moon it carried me 
six — a good five yards over the edge. For 
the moment the thing had something of the 
effect of those nightmares when one falls and 
falls. For while one falls sixteen feet, in the 
first second of a fall on earth, on the moon 
one falls two, and with only a sixth of one's 
weight. I fell, or rather I jumped down, 
about ten yards I suppose. It seemed to 
take quite a long time — five or six seconds, I 
should think. I floated through the air and 
fell like a feather, knee-deep in a snowdrift 
in the bottom of a gully of blue-grey, white- 
veined rock. 

I looked about me. "Cavor!" I cried, 
but no Cavor was visible. 

" Cavor ! " I cried louder, and the rocks 
echoed me. 

I turned fiercely to the rocks and clambered 
to the summit of them. " Cavor," I cried. 
My voice sounded like the voice of a lost 

The sphere too was not in sight, and for 
a moment a horrible feeling of desolation 
pinched my heart. 

Then I saw him. He was laughing and 
gesticulating to attract my attention. He 
was on a bare patch of rock twenty or thirty 
yards away. I could not hear his voice, 
but "Jump!" said his gestures. I hesitated, 
the distance seemed enormous. Yet I 
reflected that surely I must be able to clear 
a greater distance than Cavor. 

I made a step back, gathered myself to- 
gether, and leapt with all my might. I 
seemed to shoot right up in the air as though 
I should never come down. . . 

It was horrible and delightful, and as wild 
as a nightmare to go flying off in this fashion. 
I realized my leap had been altogether too 
violent. I flew clean over Cavor's head, and 
beheld a spiky confusion in a gully spreading 





to meet my fall. I gave a yelp of alarm. I 
put out my hands and straightened my legs. 

I hit a huge fungoid bulk that burst all 
about me, scattering a mass of orange spores 
in every direction) and covering me with orange 
powder, I rolled over spluttering, and came 
to rest convulsed with breathless laughter 

I became aware of Cavor's little round 
face peering over a bristling hedge. He 
shouted some faded inquiry, " Eh?" I tried 
to shout , hut could not do so for want of 
breath* He made his way towards me, 
coming gingerly among the bushes. 

"We've got to be careful!" he said. 
" This moon has no discipline* She'll let us 
smash ourselves." 

by Google 

He helped me to my feet 
"You exerted yourself too 
much," he said, dabbing at the 
yellow stuff with his hand to 
remove it from my garments. 

I stood passive and panting, 
allowing him to beat off the 
jelly from my knees and elbows 
and lecture me upon my mis- 
fortunes. "We don't quite 
allow for the gravitation. Our 
muscles are scarcely educated 
yet. We must practise a little. 
When you have got your 

I pulled two or three little 
thorns out of my hand, and sat 
for a time on a boulder of rock* 
My muscles were quivering, and 
I had that feeling of personal 
disillusionment that comes at 
the first fall to the learner or 
cycling on earth. 

It suddenly occurred to Cavor 
that the cold air in the gully 
after the brightness of the sun 
might give me a fever. So we 
clambered back into the sun- 
light. We found that beyond 
a few abrasions I had received 
no serious injuries from my 
tumble, and at Cavor's sugges- 
tion we were presently looking 
round for some safe and easy 
landing-place for my next leap. 
We chose a rocky slab some 
ten yards off, separated from us 
by a little thicket of olive-green 

" Imagine it there ! " said 
Cavor, who was assuming the 
airs of a trainer, and he pointed 
to a spot about foui feet from 
my toes. This leap I managed without diffi- 
culty, and I must confess 1 found a certain 
satisfaction in Cavor's falling short by a foot 
or so and tasting the spikes of the *crub, 
" One has to be careful, you see," he said, 
pulling out his thorns, and with that he ceased 
to be my Mentor and became my fettw- 
learner in the art of lunar locomotion. 

We chose a still easier jump and did it 
without difficulty, and then leapt back again 
and to and fro several times, accustoming 
our muscles to the new standard* I could 
never have believed, had I not experienced 
it, how rapid that adaptation would be. In 
a very little time indeed, certainly after fewer 
than thirty leaps, we could judge the effort 
Original from 




necessary for a distance with almost terres- 
trial assurance, 

And all this time the lunar plants were 
growing ground us, higher and denser and 
more entangled, every moment thicker and 
taller, spiked plants, green cactus masses, 
fungi, fleshy and lichenous things, strangest 
radiate and sinuous shapes. But we were 
so intent upon our leaping that for a time we 
gave no heed to their unfaltering expansion. 

" I &1-UUU H)K A MtDltM 

An extraordinary elation had taken posses- 
sion of us. Partly I think it was our sense 
of release from the confinement of the sphere. 
Mainly, however, the thin sweetness of the 
air which I am certain contained a much 
larger proportion of oxygen than our terrestrial 
atmosphere. In spite of the strange quality 
of all about us, I felt as adventurous and 

experimental as a Cockney would do placed 
for the first time among mountains ; and I 
do not think it occurred to either of us, face 
to face though we were with the Unknown, 
to be very greatly afraid* 

We were bitten by a spirit of enterprise. 
We selected a lichenous kopje, perhaps 
fifteen yards away, and landed neatly on its 
summit one after the other. " Good ! " we 
cried to each other, " good " ; and Cavor 

made three steps and 
went off ton tempting 
slope of snow a good 
twenty yards and more 
beyond, I stood for 
a moment struck by 
the grotesque effect of 
his soaring figure, his 
dirty cricket cap and 
spiky hair, his little 
round body* his arms 
and his knicker- 
bockered legs tucked 
up tightly against the 
weird spaciousness of 
the lunar scene. A gust 
of laughter seized me, 
and then I stepped off 
to follow. ] J lump ! I 
dropped beside him, 

We made a few Gar- 
gantuan strides, leapt 
three or four times 
more, and sat down 
at last in a lichenous 
hoi law. Our lungs 
were painful. We sat 
holding our sides and 
recovering our breath, 
looking appreciation 
at one another, 
Cavor panted some- 
thing about " Amaz- 
ing sensations." And 
then came a thought 
into my head. For 
the moment it did not 
seem a particularly 
appalling ihoughi, 
simply a natural 
question arising out of the situation. 

" By the way/' I said, " where exactly is 
the sphere ? " 

Cavor looked at me. " Eh ? " 
The full meaning of what we were saying 
struck me sharply, 

"Cavor!" I cried, laying a hand on his 

IK IpKUTKWJUK liFFFXT i>*» H l-S sua hi M, FIGURE 

VoL xxi,- 

(To be 

by Google 

arm ; M where is the sphere ? " 
.ntinutd.) Origina | from 


The Biggest Balloon Contest on Earth. 

By Jacques Boyer, 

From Photographs specially taken for THE Stkand Magazine. 

and experimented 
in the grounds of 
the Paris Exhibi- 
tion Antler at 
Vincennes, with 
results that are 
likely to proVe of 
paramount useful- 
ness in the study 
of aerial migra- 
tion. The contests 
of which I shall 
speak in this 
article relate en- 
tirely to balloons, 
and it is interest- 
ing to note that 
in connection 
with the 1900 
Paris Exhibition 
the Aero Club of 
France has been 
the means of pro- 
motingand facilitating experiments in balloon- 
ing on a scale never attempted before, 

A huge building was erected in the Annexe 
where balloons could be stored and the 
various necessaries could be supplied to those 
who were to take part in these interesting 
aerial contests. Our first illustration shows 
this structure and the balloons in course of 
inflation. Our second picture is a view of 


3 HERE is no doubt that the 
marked ascendency of the love 
nf sport in l ; nin<v will lrad to a 
stronger and closer friendship 
between our neighbours and our- 
selves* If proof were needed, we have only 
to look at the results of the various Inter- 
national contests in which sportsmen of all 
nations have met in friendly rivalry during the 
Paris Exhibition 
of 1 goo. The 
Press of the world 
has acclaimed the 
victors of cycle 
race**, motor - car 
contests, and what 
not, and it may be 
well to give here 
some description 
of a contest which 
in its aim is per- 
haps of greater im- 
portance than any 

The desire for 
the solution of the 
flying - machine 
problem is becom- 
ing acute in its 
in tensity t and the 
aeronauts of nil 
nations have met 






the same taken from a captive balloon on 
the 17th of June, 1900. The three pictures 
that follow show the various stages of pre- 
pa rat ion before ascending. 

Apart from the building of this huge 
hall, it became necessary to honeycomb the 
* ; ballooning ground" with innumerable pipes, 
in order to furnish an immediate and complete 
supply of gas for the inflation of the com- 
petitors' respective balloons. 

The contests were divided into four classes, 
namely, those over a minimum course to a 
certain point fixed beforehand, those for the 
highest altitude attained, those of duration, 
and distance contests. 

At this stage a delicate point suggested 
itself In contests of this kind there are two 
alternatives only. Were it a simple question 
of racing, then it would be necessary to 
equalize the competitors' chances as far as 
possible; were it a record-heating contest, 
however, then every competitor would be 
entitled to use every means in his power to 
secure the best 
advantage. For 
instance, an aero- 
naut possessing a 
balloon of large 
dimensions would 
have a better 
chance of travel- 
ling farther or 
ascending higher 
or of remaining 
in the air for a 
longer time than 
his rival with a 
smaller balloon, 
the ascending 
power decreasing 
in ratio to the 
dead weight of 
the net, the car, 
and its occupants. 
Under these cir- 
cumstances the 
simplest plan 

would have been to have allowed balloons of 
equal capacity only to take part in one and 
the same contest, in order to secure equality. 
This was found to be impracticable, how- 
ever, as such limitations would have mnde 
it impassible to secure sufficient entries 
with any prospect of success. The only 
solution of any practical value consisted 
therefore in handicapping the balloons as 
shown in our next illustration. A number 
of sealed ballast bags were placed in each 
car as found necessary, in order that the 

Digitized by Google 

amount of ascending power and ballast to 
be used should be identical in each balloon, 
irrespective of size. 

No competitor was admitted who had not 
engineered a free balloon on three different 
occasions. Moreover, all the materials were 
carefully examined by a specially-appointed 
committee before the various contests took 
place, not to mention the medical examina- 
tion of every aeronaut who entered for the 
high altitude contests, which, as aeronauts 
well know, are as a rule extremely dangerous. 
Owing to these precautions it is pleasing 
to note that in the course of 156 ascensions 
there is no single instance of the slightest 
accident to record ; this will tend to show 
conclusively also that ballooning under 
proper conditions is not nearly so dangerous 
as it is painted* 

I will now proceed to give some details of 
the various contests as they took place under 
the auspices of the Aero Club* 

The contest which consisted in navigating 




* u * ™ in 

* l Z^t 1 ■._ Ti^'f 

fc"**" - — * a**^ ^* ' "" 

-'» \lf' 


a balloon over a minimum course to a given 

point selected beforehand proved to be one 

of the most interesting, for success depended 

entirely upon the skill of the contestants as 

aeronauts pure and simple. The given point, 

fixed before the start, depended entirely 

upon the direction of the wind just before 

the signal to start was to be given. In order 

to ascertain this direction miniature balloons 

were launched, indicating by their course the 

direction .in which their more bulky brethren 

would be driven. . , , 

Original from 




AscrciiTAiNiKr; the dusectkin of the wend uy means of a PILOT BALLOON, 

The above picture shows the ascent of 
one of these " pilot balloons" as they have 
been called. The course of the " pilot J) 
was followed by means of a theodolite, 
and by means of a chart suitably fixed to a 
horizontal board the line of travel became 
evident to a nicety. Moreover the velocity 
of the wind was determined by means of 

There were in all four contests in this 
class. The entries were a great success, and 
the results obtained were most gratifying. 
Twelve competitors started on the 7th of 
July. The goal was the railway station of 
Auvers-sur-Oise, near l J ontoise, and the time 
of sojourn in the air was fixed at two hours. 
The victors were all three members of the 
Aero Club ; namely, M. GuflTroy, the explorer, 
who left Yineennes at half-past three and 
alighted at half-past five at about 436 yards 
from the place appointed ; Count de la 
Vaulx, who lauded 872 yards away; and M. 
Castillon de Jjt. Victor, who alighted a short 
distance away from the preceding contestant 

The record contest in the same category 
took place on the 22nd July, when twelve 
balloons — whose passengers, by the way, 
included several ladies— started about the 
same time. The landing -point was the Church 
of Mormant (Seine and Marne), and, the 
balloons not being handicapped, the depar- 
ture of the twelve competitors took place in 
less than half an hour. Three members of 
the jury started on motor-cars in order to 
control the various landings and to measure 
distances, and, let it be whispered, to warn 
the inhabitants of the little village ol 
aerial visitants I No 
of the balloons that 

Mormant of their 
fewer than eleven 


started from Vin- 
cennes alighted 
almost simultane- 
ously within the 
area of the 
" green " of the 
Commune, amid 
cheers of the 
assembled crowds 
of country folk. 
The victory rested 
with M. de la 
Vaulx, who 
alighted within 
t,ioo yards of the 
church steeple in 
his balloon u I-e 
Centaun*," among 
whose passengers 
were Don Jaime de Bourbon,, the Archduke 
Leopold Salvador of Austria, and Count de 
Coma, The other successful competitors 
were M, Carton, who alighted at 1,160 yards, 
and M, GuflTroy, at about 1,250 yards from 
the coveted goal 

The third contest in the same class took 
place on August 19th. It included a com- 
pulsory stoppage at two-thirds of the distance, 
and all competitors who had not landed 
twice were to be disqualified. The aeronauts 
were allowed to deposit passengers at the 
stopping - place, hut were not allowed to 
remain on terra firma for more than an hour. 
This test, which was a particularly severe 
one, carried with it a chance of the "Grand 
Prix Aeronautlque," because of the difficulties 
to be encountered, The results were an un^ 
qualified success, no fewer than twenty-two 
balloons taking part in the fray. The first 
stopping-point was fixed at the railway station 
called Da martin, and the final goal was fixed 
at NanteuiMe Houdoin, near Senlis on the 
Oise ; MM. Jacques Eaure, Eugene Godart, 
and De la Vaulx were the victors. 

The last contest in this class became a 
matter of extreme interest, inasmuch as all 
the members of the Aeronautical Congress 
and M. Picard, Commissioner - General of 
the Exhibition, were present to witness the 
departure, as shown in the next illustration. 
Each competitor was entitled to select 
beforehand the particular spot at which he 
hoped to land. The Count de la Valette 
proved himself the victor on that occasion. 
He alighted within ahout 870 yards of the 
place which he had previously designated. 

The contest for the highest altitudes 
attained followed next. Though not requiring 
Original from 





so much skill in aerial navigation proper, it 
became equally exciting to spectators and 
competitors alike, owing to the dangers to 
which very high ascensions often lead. 
The ascension of "The Zenith" in 1874, 
when Cruse, Spindli, and Stvel met their 
deaths at an altitude of 27,950ft., came 
hack to the minds of many, and made these 
ascensions a matter of wonder and excite- 
ment to those who had never been up in a 
balloon before* 

The rarefied air which is encountered at 
high altitudes causes great suffering, as is 
well known. In order to mitigate tfiis effect 
the aeronauts took with them bags of 
oxygen gas in order to minimize the danger. 
The record for altitudes in the areas of 
balloons belongs to a German savant, M. 
Berson, himself connected with the Meteoro- 
logical Institute of Berlin; he reached an 
altitude of 29,746ft., that is to say 744ft. 
higher than the highest peak the Himalayan 
Mountains can boast of. In London M. 
Kerson succeeded in reaching an altitude of 
27,040ft. in 1828, though thirty-six years 
before Glaisher had reached the amazing 
height of 28,795ft. The contest at Vin- 
cennes did not produce a record, however, 
as MM, Balsan and Louis Godard, the 
victors, only reached an altitude of 2 7, 35 5 ft. 
In this contest, which took place on the 

Digitized by L»i 

23rd of September, M. Juchmks was second 
with 22,155ft,, and the Count de la Vaulx 
third with 21,999ft, 

Count de la Vaulx has kindly allowed us to 
take a peep at his diary, from which we gather 
some interesting particulars. No sooner had 
he and his companion in peril, M. Maison, 
attained an altitude of 13,000ft when the 
cork of a champagne bottle went with a 
bang, without a moment's warning. 

M* de la Vaulx at once started to inhale 
the oxygen from his bag in order to keep up 
his strength, though his companion did not 
use it until they had reached 18,525ft,, when 
he felt a strange weakness in the legs. No 
sooner did he have recourse to the oxygen 
bag, however, than he recovered the complete 
use of his limbs and was able to manipulate 
the ballast as required. 

M, de la Vaulx's diary here says : " At 
4.55 we are at 19,500ft.; I feel well and am 
bewildered by the magnificent view beneath 
me, I tell Maison to throw more ballast 
overboard ; he Lhrows a bag accordingly, and 
falls back unconscious on the floor of l he 
car, I introduce the mouthpicrr o! ihe 
oxygen bag as far as I can into his throat, 
and he revives little by little. I was just in 
time ; he soon feels well, but does not let 
go of his oxygen bag again j he is wise." 

From 5 + 2Q lf .taj ( ^^ rc t^ plucky aeronauts 




remained practically stationary between 
23,400ft. and 23,925ft. The diary adds: 
" We do not suffer in any way, we do not 
fed sick or even giddy ; the oxygen bags do 
their work beautifully, and we still have from 
3201b. to 360IU of ballast, but in order 
not to infringe the rules of the contest 
(namely , not to descend at a rate of more 
than 1,093 >^ r ds in five seconds) we are 
beginning our descent/' 

The altitude record contests were not with- 
out their excitements. Fur example, on the 
24th of June Count de la Vaulx decided to 
spend the night in mid-air in order to profit 
by the early rays of the sun to reach the 
higher altitudes* At dawn he still had 
5oolb. of ballast which he intended to 
make use of, when he and his party were 
suddenly overtaken by a snow blizzard. The 
balloon having gathered a quantity of snow 
upon its upper surface, the aeronaut waft com- 
pelled to throw the whole of his reserve ballast 
overboard. An hour later the snow melted sud- 
denly, and " L'Aero Club," becoming accord- 
ingly lightened, shot upwards with incredible 
speed, leaving the sea of clouds far below. 

The travellers had then recourse to the 


valve, but at the first pull a glacial douche 
of melted snow, which had accumulated 
on top of the balloon, drenched them to 
the skin. The balloon, delivered of this 
surprise burden, shot up once more, but 
another recourse to the valve secured a safe 
descent in a field near Emden, in Hanover, 
quite 37 2 % miles from Paris, the journey 
having lasted fifteen hours. 

The duration contests were prolific in 
adventures of many kinds. It was decided 
that no ascension should take place were 
the wind to blow towards the sea, though 
on two occasions the wind veered round 
suddenly and carried some of the com- 
petitors in the wrong direction, when 
progress had to be prematurely stopped. 
On one occasion, when a westerly gale was 
blowing, the starts were fraught with danger. 
Some of the descents were most exciting — 
for instance, that of the balloon owned 
by Count Castillon de St. Victor, which 
was dragged for a considerable distance 
over the woods in the Department of 
Calvados. M. de la Vaulx returned to 
terra fir ma at Guingamp, in Brittany, at 
2 a.m. in pitch darkness. According to his 
log-book it appears that his 
balloon was travelling at the 
time at the rate of 62 miles an 
hour. Our illustration shows 
the position of the balloon as 
it grounded. The air-bag, 
which is on the other side of 
the trees, and therefore is not 
visible in the photograph, was 
very much injured, though it 
is pleasing to hear that the 
intrepid travellers were in no 
way hurt. 

The third and last contest 
for tii ; s class, which took place 
on the lfith of September, calls 
for special notice, as the seven 
competitors ?11 started from 
Vincennes at eijht o'clock ot 
night. Huge electric search- 
lights followed the various 
balloons in their nocturnal 
flight, and enabled the excited 
spectators to catch a last 
glimpse of them before they 
were swallowed up in tin 
blackness of the night. M, 
Balsan won the contest on that 
occasion, succeeding in keep- 
ing his balloon, the "St. Louis," 
in mid -air thirty -five hours 
altogether, . 'thus beating M. 




de la Vaulx's record of thirty hours, though 
the latter was not slow in recovering his 
advantage, as will he seen. 

The long-distance contests created, per- 
haps, the greatest excitement of all. Never 
have such results in ballooning been attained 
before — even beating the former record of 
MM. Castillon de St. Victor and Mallet, 
who travelled continuously for a distance 
of 826 miles. 
The first race, 
however, did 
not turn out a 
success. The 
wind veered 
round to the 
west and com- 
pelled the com- 
petitors to end 
their intended 
long - distance 
journey very 
abruptly. The 
second race, 
which, by the 
way, included a 
balloon photo- 
graphy competi- 
t i o n , was a 

On the 30th 
of September an 
east wind gave 
the competitors 
their chance. 
The Count de la 
Vaulx alighted 
after a journey 
of twenty - one 
hours and forty- 
five minutes at 
near Wloewek, 
Varsovy, that is 
about 768 miles 
from Vincennes; 
M . B a 1 s a n 

alighted at the mouth of the River Leba, 
near Dant/ig, after a twenty - two hours' 
journey, 759 miles from Vincennes; and 
M. Jacques Fnure arrived at Mamlitz, near 
Bramberg, 7343^ miles from Vincennes, after 
a journey of twenty hours seventeen minutes. 

M t de la Vaulx has thus succeeded in 
being the first to cross over Germany into 
Russia from France* The "Centaure " under 
his management behaved exceeding well, and 
the aeronaut had no less than 200IU of 
ballast to spare whfen he made his descent ; 

Digitized by GoOglC 


kl "H 

Mf7»]JB 1 



thus he could have gone farther if it had not 
been for the fact that beyond a certain 
limit he would not have been granted a pass- 
port by the local Russian authorities without 
first communicating with St. Petersburg ■ 
this would have taken some days, a delay 
that would have debarred the plucky traveller 
from taking part in the last contest, which 
was to take place in Paris on the 9th of 

October. To 
com memorate 
this remarkable 
achievement the 
committee of 
the Aero Club 
have awarded 
M. de la Vaulx 
their gold medal. 
At the autumn 
meeting which 
marked the 
e 1 s e f the 
contests of the 
Paris Exhibition 
there remained 
only six com- 
petitors, the 
victors in the 
various contests 
which had taken 
place before 
Count Castillon 
de Sl Victor 
withdrew from 
the contests in 
order to accom- 
pany his friend 
De la Vaulx on 
October gth* 

The final 
contest was one 
between Count 
dc la Vaulx, 
who carried 
off the first 
prize, and M, 
Jacques Balsan, Count de la Vaulx 
succeeded in heating both the "time" and 
l * distance" records in one voyage, since he 
and his companion reached Korostychel, a 
small town in the Province of Kiev, on the 
banks of the Dnieper, after 35hrs. 4 5111 in. in 
the air, covering a distance of 1,194 niiles 
without a stop. On the other hand, MM. 
Ralsan and Louis Godard alighted at 
Opotehka (Russia) after a journey of 2 7hrs. 
15mm., having covered a distance of 844^ 


Original from 


^ 0N °\ 



m Alpine Lpisode 

b/ A Coralie- Stanton 

Mr. liurtie Vallance, in the 
tone of one stating an indis- 
putable fact, "is no occupa- 
tion for women/' 

There was a slight rustle 
among the guests assembled in the salon of 
the most popular hotel in Schwarzenberg, a 
little-known village of the higher Swiss Alps, 
which, dominated as it is by two splendid 
and highly dangerous peaks, and many of 
somewhat inferior height and less danger, is 
mostly known to and frequented by ardent 
enthusiasts of mountaineering — and the 
rustle of excitement was due to the fact that 
Miss Grimm, the ardent and well-known 
advocate of women's rights and president of 
countless women's societies, was present. 

Everyone felt that Mr, Val lance's speech 
was nothing short of a direct challenge to 
Miss Grimm, and no one was surprised when 
she took it up, 

" Everything is a suitable occupation for a 
woman as long as she does it thoroughly and 
well, and harms neither herself nor anyone 
else,' 1 she said, taking off In t spectarles and 
looking fixedly into Mr. Val lance's handsome 
face. In a few words, this was her gospel. 

Digitized by Ln 

and not such a bad one, either ; and she 
was known to live up to it, too, which is the 
great test. 

But the superiority , physical and mental, 
of the masculine sex was as much Bertie 
Val lance's hobby as was the equality of the 
feminine that of Miss Grimm ; and he sat up 
in his chair and warmed to the discussion. 
Both Miss Grimm and he had been staying 
in the hotel over a week, and many spar had 
they enjoyed over their after-dinner coffee 
and cigarette — it made his blood boil, but 
for simple courtesy's sake he had to offer her 
one of his favourite Egyptian blend now and 
then, And she, with her advantage of years, 
and reading, and experience, thought him an 
ignorant and bumptious young fellow, and he 
thought her a blot on creation* 

The young man was silent a moment, 
thinking out a reply that would clinch the 
matter and leave him in possession of the 
field. He gave it out deliberately to an 
attentive audience, 

M Woman," he said, "possesses neither the 
physical strength, the power of endurance, 
the calmness of judgment, the coolness of 
head, the keenness of eye, the swiftness of 
movement, nor any of the other innumerable 
qualifications necessary to the expert moun- 

" Have you ever heard of Olga Braun?" 
asked Miss Grimm, by way of retort, 

"The Queen of, the Alps, as they call 




her?" Vallahce said, with lazy contempt 
"Of course I have." 

" She ascended Kunchin - jinga," Miss 
Grimm went on, "and when she was over- 
taken by a snow-storm remained alone at an 
altitude of 19,000ft. all night, while her 
guides went for help." 

" India is a very long way off," Vallance 
suggested, in his former tone. "The Hima- 
layas are very convenient, and guides' tales 
are not very trustworthy, you know. Indian 
guides are mortal — and purchasable." 

" That is not a worthy retort," said Miss 
Grimm, rather stiffly. 

He felt somehow that it was not, but he 
could not very well deny flatly the feat of a 
mountaineer whose name was a household 
word, and he felt at that moment that the 
intrepid woman's splendid achievement had 
been planned and carried out with the sole 
object of his humiliation. 

" What do you think on the subject, 
madam ? " Vallance, to hide his mortifica- 
tion, turned to a young woman who sat in 
the window, reading one of the books from 
the limited hotel library. She had taken no 
part in the conversation ; she had only 
arrived that morning, and her manner 
matched her quiet, rather neutral, appearance. 

Finding herself directly addressed by the 
young man she laid down her book and 
answered, with a pleasant smile and another 
question : — 

" Have you ever seen a woman who is a 
mountaineer ? " 

" Yes," he said, with angry warmth. " Her 
— er — garments were torn and stained, and 
her face and hands like those of a sweep. 
What can men think of such women, who 
forget that their first care should be to look 
charming, to realize a man's idea of the 
beautiful, the restful — the ideal ?" 

" Perhaps she had just come back from 
some perilous climb; maybe she had faced 
Death many times and conquered him. 
Perhaps she loved the mountains more than 
the admiration of men." The stranger's 
voice was very musical, and Vallance forgave 
her speech for the sake of hearing it. Miss 
Grimm looked at her with curiosity and 

A moment later Vallance returned to the 

" Well, all I can say is— no lady moun- 
taineer for me ! " he said, with a light laugh. 

" There is no such thing as a lady 

mountaineer," said Miss Grimm, sharply. 

1 You'll be saying * mountaineeress ' directly, 

just as they used to say ' authoress ' — thank 

V«L xxi.-7. 

Digitized by LjOOgle 

Heaven that's obsolete ! I've never met 
Olga Braun, but I should like to. She was 
here last summer, and so was I, but she left 
the day before I came." 

After that Vallance, who was of a tenacious 
turn of mind, appealed to two young Germans, 
who had been listening eagerly, and was 
assured of their entire sympathy, expressed 
with the help of many guttural sounds of 
horror at the idea of their Iraus forsaking 
their three K's, or four, rather, since Kleider 
has been added to the list, to wander among 
the mountains clothed in bifurcated garments. 

There the conversation ended, for a porter 
entered the room with the announcement 
that the storm was over, and that a party of 
people were to be seen through the hotel 
telescope completing the descent of the 

Everyone but the stranger, whose voice 
had fascinated Vallance, rushed off to enjoy 
the thrills of mountaineering through the 
exceedingly powerful telescope which the 
hotel manager provided for his less adven- 
turous guests. 

The young man lingered a moment at the 

" You are not interested in mountaineer- 
ing ? " he asked. 

" I watched them so often last year," the 
stranger answered, with the swift, brilliant 
smile that lit up the quiet face so unex- 
pectedly. Then she rose and shut her book, 
and, with a slight bow, passed out of the 

Half an hour later Vallance saw her leave 
the hotel and walk down the one narrow 
street. He noticed with pleasure that her 
short skirt was perfectly hung, and her feet 
were undoubtedly trim and shapely, although 
heavily shod. He felt an unaccountable 
interest in this brown-haired young woman ; 
he wondered where she would sit at dinner. 

He found that she had been placed on 
his right, and before the meal was half-way 
through he had made several discoveries. 
She was by no means plain ; her forehead 
was fine and her eyebrows most delicately 
traced, and if she was rather colourless, there 
was a certain charm in those neutral tints, 
the pale skin, the solt, light-brown hair, and 
the eyes that matched it to a shade. And 
the charm of her manner heightened that of 
her personal appearance. He put her down 
as very intelligent and a very good talker. 
True, her words were few, but conver- 
sation does not consist in mere talking. 
His discoveries did not include her name ; 
the camaraderie of a table d'hote seldom calls 

I a I I I '.' I 1 1 




for a formal introduction. And no one else 
in the hotel seemed to know it. 

The next morning dawned gloriously ; a 
cloudless sky smiled down 
on that enchanted valley, 
and the weather-wise among 
the visitors declared that, 
after an unusually variable 
spell for the month of 
August, the fine days had 
come to stay. 

After break- 
fast Vallance 
set out on an 
tramp, and as 
he passed 
down the 
veranda steps 
he saw that 
the brown- 
haired stranger 
was sitting at 
her ease in a 
with a Tau- 
ehnitz novel 
and writing 
materials on 
the table by 
her side. 

He doffed 
his cap, and 
she smiled in 
the way that 
was already 
beginning to 
haunt him, and 
called out a 
hon voyage. 

As he walked along through the meadows, 
thiek with many-hued flowers, it seemed to 
him that the girl's musical voice, her refined, 
fragile-looking face, had in some mysterious 
manner penetrated into the lumber-room of 
his brain and fished out something that had 
lain there for years, a vague thing at best, 
which in his boyish days he had been rather 
ashamed of—an ideal She and the ideal ; 
the ideal and she— there was some connec- 
tion between them. And, without warning, 
light flashed in upon him — she ivas the ideal. 

Such was the woman he had dreamed of 
in the days before the grinding struggle 
that had landed him at twenty-eight at a 
sufficiently proud altitude in the world of 
art — he was a painter. Just such a quiet, 
refined, intelligent personality — a symphony 
in light- brown s. 



by Google 

He felt a sense of exhilaration beyond that 
of the glorious mountain air when he 
thought of her friendly smile ; it even 

pleased him to 
remember that 
she sat on the 
veranda while 
he went forth 
in search of 
She smiled as 
he went ; she 
would smile as 
he returned. 
It was the 
epitome of bis 
ideal s func- 
tions, to shed 
light and 
comfort and 
rest. He was 
glad there 
were a few such women 
It ft in all the whirl of 
the present day, above 
which is raised the cry 
of the shrieking sister- 
hood—Athleticism ! 
Equality ! — like the 
raucous note of an evil 
bird of the night. 
As he returned, towards evening, his 
whole being steeped in the unearthly 
beauty of the amphitheatre of giant 
peaks, dazzling, white, and pure, which 
he had gazed upon from a neighbouring 
height, he entered into conversation with 
two of the best guides in the village, 
and was persuaded by them to attempt 
the ascent of the Schwarzhorn, so called 
for no obvious reason, for it is whiter than 
the whitest thing one can imagine. 

Rumours of his intention were afloat by 
dinner-time- The Schwarzhorn was the most 
important peak in the neighbourhood ; its 
ascent was always attended by danger, owing 
to the frequency of stone avalanches ; in 
some weathers it was impossible. Vallance 
had suddenly become an object of interest to 
the whole table* 

44 When do you start ? ,? asked a fresh- 
faced American girl, and her eyes flashed 
admiration of his physical prowess. 

"The day after to-morrow, if the weather 
permits," he answered. " The guides think 
it will The snow, they say, is in good con- 

He caught Miss Grimm's twinkling eyes 
fixed on him with what be took to be amuse- 

Original from 




merit lurking behind her spectacles. He 
addressed her with elaborate carelessness. 

" Your heroine of the Himalayas — your 
champion, Miss Olga Braun — how often has 
she done the Schwarzhorn ? " 

" They say she knows every inch of it. 
She went up twice last year and discovered a 
new track from the second cabane" Miss 
Grimm answered, quietly. 

" Do tell us about some of your climbs, 
Mr. Vallance," interrupted the American girl. 

He was not much of a mountaineer, 
although the mere sight of a snow-peak filled 
him with such enthusiasm and elation that 
he felt a new man on his Swiss holidays. 
He lacked experience and the inborn genius 
of the climber into high altitudes. 

But he was filled with a newly-born and 
insistent desire that the quiet, brown-haired 
girl by his side should understand that he 
was no carpet knight ; that what he derided 
in her sex he gloried in himself, he, to whom 
pluck and daring were a credit and not a 

So, turning instinctively to her — for the 
American girl's approval he cared not a jot 
— he told of some of the ascents he had 
made — modest ones, all ; and he kept to the 
main truth, even if he did add on a few 
incidents to give life and colour to the recital. 
Anyhow, he said enough to show an expert 
mountaineer, if there was one present, that 
although rather more than a tyro, he was not 
of the choice and intrepid spirits of the 
Alpine Club. 

And, stung by the quiet amusement he 
saw, or fancied he saw, in Miss Grimm's 
eyes, he wound up with a tirade against his 
particular bete noire, the athletic woman. 

" When chivalry, which is one of the en- 
nobling traits in man's nature and one of the 
forces that hold society together, is dead," 
were his final words, " then you will have to 
thank your Olga Brauns for it." 

" There are different interpretations of the 
word 'chivalry,'" was Miss Grimm's answer, 
"and I think mine is other than yours." 

The brown-haired girl had listened to his 
recital with charming appreciation, but she 
took no part in the argument that followed, 
in which Vallance was completely worsted by 
Miss Grimm, armed as that lady was with 
oft-repeated arguments and a flood of plat- 
form rhetoric. 

The hours of the next day that he did not 
spend in preparation for his expedition 
Vallance contrived to pass by the brown- 
haired girl's side, and apparently his 
companionship was congenial to her. 

by Google 

After dinner they sat on the veranda, in 
the light of the moon that bathed the 
mountains in a silver glory. 

They were very silent ; Vallance glanced 
once or twice at his companion. " It is not 
mere physical beauty that an artist seeks," he 
thought ; " it is a face such as this, with a soul 
shining through." And the line of her chin 
and throat was perfect. 

" I almost wish I was going with you to- 
morrow," she said, at last. She was gazing 
dreamily over the crest of the mountains, but, 
when she had spoken, she seemed to become 
conscious of her surroundings ; and he did 
not see her quick, mirthful smile as she 
turned her head away. 

The remark roused his violent prejudice. 
It was like treason from the lips of his 

"Thank Heaven you are not!" he ex- 
claimed, fervently. "You are not one of 
those women who make hideous their woman- 
hood by attempting what they are not fitted 
for. Fancy you emulating that creature Miss 
Grimm is always throwing in my face — Olga 
Braun ! But I was just going to ask you a 
question," he went on, after a short pause. 
"You know Switzerland so well, and you 
seem to me to be always watching people in 
your quiet way. What do you think is the 
first qualification of a mountaineer ? " 

"The first," she said, and there was a 
wistful note in her voice that made its music 
almost painfully sweet ; " the first, I think, is 
to love the mountains, not to look on 
them as enemies to be conquered, but friends 
to be won ; not only to think of the honour 
and glory of a difficult ascent, of a new path 
discovered, of a record made ; to find the 
vast solitudes of ice and snow not lonely, but 
peopled with beautiful dreams and thoughts 
that help. There are so many qualifications, 
but it seems to me that is the first and 
greatest — to have the love of the mountains 
in your heart" 

Vallance did not answer at once. How 
was it that she understood that, this quiet 
little girl? How was it that she could put into 
words the vague things that stirred within 
him, formless, immature? 

Before he found words she was gone, with 
a hurried " Good-rright." 

It was dark still when he stood on the 
veranda in the early hours of the next 
morning, waiting for his guides. 

At the light sound of a footstep he turned, 
and met the brown-haired girl as she came 
out of the hall. 

" I am a bad sleeper, and a very early 
Original from 




riser," she said, in answer to his astonished 

* l Have I your good wishes ? " he ask<.:d. 

11 Yes, indeed/' she said, with a smile, " I 
wish you luck— and a safe return." 

Before his guides turned the corner of the 
street, by the little church, she had vanished 
into the hotel again. 

But she watched him from her window, as 
he strode off between his two stalwart guides, 
not very stalwart himself, but well-knit, with 
his refined artist's face in strange contrast to 
his rough clothes and heavily-nailed boots, 
Then she smiled at herself in her glass, 

" Vou are very foolish," she told herself. 
"You have never striven after so unworthy 
an object — to give a man a lesson ! " A 
sigh battled with and mastered the smile as 
she turned away* 

Vallance acquitted himself well duriny the 
first part of the ascent. As has been said, 
he was not much of a mountaineer, but he 
was level-headed and cautious, and he 
obeyed his guides in everything, 

The passage of the glacier was made with 
safety and celerity, and 
then came a short but 
arduous bit of rock climb- 
ing, which landed 

on a narrow ridge, overhanging a precipitous 
incline, where the track they had followed was 
joined by another, the starting-point of which 
was about a mile beyond the village* 

Here they made their first halt, and, as 
they stood, leaning against a huge rock, 
Vallance espied a solitary figure climbing up 
the second track. He looked more intently, 
and saw that it was a woman, and that she 
sprang up the ice-glazed rocks like a chamois. 
At the same moment the guides caught 
sight of her, and they raised their hats almost 
as if they saw a vision. 

11 The Fritukin / " one of them muttered. 
" Du lithtr Ilimmtt^ the Friiukin ! " 
11 Vou know her?" Vallance asked, 
"Know her? It is the great Fraulein 
Olga Braun, 5 ' the man answered, proudly. 
The two men worshipped the famous moun- 
taineer ; they had been with her on that 
far-famed ascent of Kunchin -jinga which had 
won for her her member- 
ship of every Alpine 

Vallance fixed his 
glasses on the woman's 
figure* curious to see the 
much -discussed, and by 
him cordially dis- 
approved -of, Olga 
Braun, He dropped 
them again and gave vent to 
a sharp exclamation. It was 
the brown -haired girl from 
the "International," his quiet, 
gentle ideal of womanhood ! 
She and the mountaineer were 
one and the same person. 
He could scarcely grasp the 
overpowering revelation ; it 
came upon him like a thunder- 
bolt that the two personalities 
should be identical. He won- 
<kn_d vaguely whether she had 
come up on purpose to teach 
him a lesson. 

He leaned forward, his brain 
in a whirl, the glasses close to 
his eyes. 

^Achtungf" cried one of the 
guides. 1( Don't do that, mein 
Jfrrr — — " 

Hut it was too late. The 

glasses had slipped from Val 

lance's hands, and, as he 

save them, his foot slipped 

ice. He 


stooped to 

on a rock coated with thin 

lost his balance and fell, fell 

side of the precipice ; and at 

over the 

the same 

by Google 

Original from 



time the rope broke between him and the 
foremost guide. 

He fell like a stone the length of the rope 
between him and the second guide, who 
braced himself, with feet planted firm and 
arms clinging to the rock, to stand the strain. 
A second's breathless suspense, and then a 
cry of horror from both the guides — the rope 
had parted again with a sickening jerk, 
flinging the guide on his face barely a 
quarter of an inch on the right side of the 
precipice, and the young Englishman — 
where ? 

The elder guide saw all that followed ; it 
was not to be measured by ordinary standards 
of time. The moment the rope broke between 
his " Herr " and himself he had flung him- 
self flat on his face on the edge of the 
precipice, ready to slip his arm under the 
rope that still tied the young Englishman to 
the other guide, who was his brother, to pre- 
vent its being cut by the jagged rock, should 
it stand the strain. 

He joined in his brother's cry of horror, 
and then his very blood seemed to freeze ; 
he hardly felt his brother's weight when the 
latter stumbled to his feet and threw the 
whole weight of his body across his legs, to 
keep him from losing his balance and 
following their unfortunate employer. 

He craned forward until he hung over the 
edge of the precipice to his waist, his every 
sense, and nerve, and faculty concentrated in 
the act of seeing. 

And this is what he saw. As he after- 
wards told his colleagues, it happened quicker 
than a flash of lightning. 

He saw Vallance drop a distance of about 
fifty feet, carrying with him some fifteen feet 
of loose rope ; he saw this rope, frayed to a 
tassel where it had broken, twist itself round 
a slender peak that jutted far out of the 
receding face of the rock ; he saw, in a 
dazed sort of way, that the rope was held 
firm for a moment ; he saw the unfortunate 
man's body, impelled by the sudden check to 
his horrible descent, swing out horizontally, 
and then back towards the rocky face of the 

And then he looked away ; he could not 
bear to see his " Herr " dashed to atoms on 
the seracs of the glacier below. 

And then a roar, as of rolling thunder, 
sounded in his ears. He looked again, and 
saw that the jutting- peak of rock on which 
the rope had caught had broken bodily away, 
and fallen in a thousand atoms on to the ice ; 
and — surely, a miracle had been wrought ! 

A little below that jutting peak, only 

by L^OOgle 

visible now that it had fallen, was a tiny 
ledge, and on that, in swinging back towards 
the mountain face, the young man's body 
had caught It looked as if a breath would 
precipitate it thousands of feet through 
space into the yawning, ice-bound depths. 

He got up and signed to his brother to 
take his place ; then their eyes met, and 
one word escaped them simultaneously — 
"Impossible !" 

There was no foothold ; it would be mad- 
ness to attempt it. The ledge on which they 
stood overhung the place where the young 
man's body lay. It meant being lowered by 
a rope, it meant a pendulum-like swing, with 
a chance of being dashed to death against 
the cruel rock ; it meant clinging on to 
nothing over a gulf thousands of feet deep 
while one slipped a rope round the victim's 
body, even if one could ever hope to reach 
him ; it meant another pendulum swing, with 
the added strain of an unconscious body on 
the rope. It meant certain death, with no 
hope of rescuing the Englishman. 

They must go back as far as the glacier 
and try to get at him that way. By that time 
he might be dead ; he might fall and be 
dashed to pieces on the ice below. 

The elder guide shouted, and a faint cry 
answered ; it reached theirs ears like a wail, 
and the echo took it up and it became a 
moaning chorus. He lived. 

They were the finest guides in the dis- 
trict ; they knew no fear of a thing that was 
possible, but they could only look at each 
other, unnerved, trembling, and mutter : " It 
is not to be done ! " 

And then a voice, a woman's voice, broke 
the deathly stillness, and the brown-haired 
girl from the " International," Olga Braun, 
the world-famous mountaineer, appeared at 
the junction of the two tracks. She was 
in complete mountaineering costume ; she 
grasped an ice-axe, and a coil of rope was 
slung over one of her shoulders. Nimbly 
she sprang up and stood by their side, and 
the two guides raised their hats again in 
almost reverent greeting. 

" Where is he ? " she asked, hoarsely. " I 
heard a cry just now. I came up the other 
track — it is shorter, you know— to give him a 
surprise and go on with you to the top. 
Can't you speak ? Oh, my God, the rope ! " 
The ragged ends hanging round the men's 
bodies told her only too plainly what their 
parched lips found it impossible to say. 

Her presence and her solitary climb up 
that second track, shorter, true, but far more 
dangerous than the one they had chosen, 
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had robbed them for the moment of their 
habitual stolid self-control. The elder pointed 
down the precipice. 

In a second she, in her turn, was lying on 
her face, peering down into the abyss. Her 
action roused the men's professional instinct ; 
they knelt down and held her tightly, and in 
a moment their sangfroid returned, and they 
were ashamed of their collapse. 

" I see him ! " she cried. " Thank God, I 
see him ! " They helped her up and she 
looked into their faces. " You are going to 
leave him ! " she cried ; " you are not going 
to try to save him ! " 

" Fraulein, you know us ! " the elder said, 
with a sad shake of his head. "If it were 
possible, we would do it ; but it is not. 
Look for yourself, frdulein" 

It was true what he said. It was a 
matter of a drop of eighty feet at most ; 
but that glazed rock, shelving inward at that 
sharp angle, made it so hopeless that these 
men, who were brave as lions, who had be- 
haved on more than one occasion like 
heroes, who had twice saved her own life, 
would not attempt it. 

She gave a quick glance at their rope and 
at her own, which she had placed on a rock 
by the side of her ice-axe. 

" I will do it," she said, and her face 
looked beautiful just then, with the light of 
firm purpose and self-sacrifice shining in her 
eyes. "You have enough rope— I will try." 

u Fraukitit you must not — it is death ! " 
cried the guides, in fearful alarm. " You 
know us — and we dare not." 

" But I will," she said. " Give me double 
rope, and an extra one. I can tie the knots, 
you know that — and I shall not lose my 
head. Come, Fritz ! " 

" Fraulcin y you will be dashed to pieces — 
you give your life for nothing," the man said. 
" It is impossible ! " 

But to argue, to plead with her was use- 
less, and they knew it ; and with trembling 
fingers the elder brother knotted the rope 
around her body and placed another coil in 
her hand. She was quite calm ; she even 
noticed the little red strands woven into the 
rope that told her it was the strongest and 
best obtainable. Everything, she knew, 
depended on that rope, if she could reach 
V&llance without being dashed to pieces. 
That was what the guides refused to risk, and 
she knew that she was not braver than they, 
only more foolish. 

In silence they lowered her ; they could 
not afford to waste their strength, even in 

by Google 

It was no new sensation to her — it had 
been necessary on several of her climbs ; and 
her balance was perfect. She looked down 
and saw something that brought her heart to 
a standstill. She was some thirty feet above 
the ledge where Vallance lay, some fifteen feet 
away from it horizontally, owing to the shelving 
of the rock ; and the young man's body was 
in such a position that it must infallibly slip 
off the ledge in a very short time. She saw 
also that the ledge was at the extreme end 
of what might almost be called a cave in the 
face of the rock, and that level with her eyes 
was a deep fissure, • the under portion of 
which jutted out in a small peak, and that 
this fissure overhung the ledge almost 

Her trained eye took it in in a moment — 
the possibility, the one slender chance. She 
could loop her extra rope over that jutting 
peak and lower herself right on to the ledge. 
But first she must get at it ! It was at least 
ten feet away ; there was only one thing to do 
— to swing herself on to it. 

She shouted, and they understood above 
and ceased serving out the rope. Then she 
swung herself slowly, with incredible skill, 
each time a little nearer, until at last she was 
thrown against the face of the rock, just in 
the right place, dizzy, with a rushing of waters 
in her ears and bleeding hands. To slip the 
noose of the extra rope round the jutting peak 
of the fissure was the work of a moment. She 
shouted again, more faintly, and the rope was 
served out once more. Slowly she lowered 
herself by the aid of the third rope ; and she 
dare not look beneath her. 

But she had achieved the impossible ; her 
foot touched the rock. Another shout, a 
wild clinging to something firm for balance, 
and she found herself kneeling beside the 
huddled heap that had started out so confi- 
dently a few short hours ago. 

She could not stop to see whether he were 
dead or alive. With her grazed fingers she 
tied the rope round his body, and her brain, 
working automatically, wondered why she 
had d<yie this thing, and could find no 
answer. She only knew that as she swung, 
half blind and deaf, nearer death than she 
had ever been in her life, one thing was clear 
to her — she must get at him — he must be 
saved ! 

It was only seconds, but it seemed centuries 
before the knots were tied ; then, knowing 
that the worst danger was to come, she pulled 
the signal rope. 

Simultaneously, winding her arms around 
the man's body, and turning sick with fear 




*** *** ^e - r 


at the dead weight of it, the woman again 
swung out h then again, and again, and again, 
and the fourth time, as she kicked out with 
her feet, to prevent their being dashed 
against the rock, the sole was torn clean off 
her boot. But, as they swung out into 
space, almost unconscious as she was, she 
knew that the worst was over, for, with a 
shivering jerk, the rope gradually steadied 
itself, and they were hauled up without 
the frightful swinging that might at any 
moment have meant instant death. 

Now everything depended on the rope ; 
s'le could almost hear it creak and groan, 
Would it hold out ? 

A glad shout from above roused her from 
the torpor into which she was sinking ; there 
wa* a last violent jerk, and then strong arms 
closed around her. 

She did not faint. She saw that the 
guides' faces were the colour of ashes, that 
the sweat poured down their cheeks ; she 

by Oc 


saw that the ropes were frayed ; that one was 
almost cut through by the friction of the 
jagged edge of the precipice, although the 
guides had laid their coats and hats and 
scarves underneath. 

" Is he dead ? ,J she whispered. 
" No, Friiukin" said the elder, who was 
attending to Valla nee. "He is very much 
cut and bruised, but his heart beats and he 
breathes/' She hardly recognised his voice, 
it was so hollow and old 

She tore her handkerchief into strips and 
bound his head, and something bright and 
wet fell on the young artist's 
white face that looked so 
beautiful and so still Hut 
her nerve was magnificent. 

Soon he recovered con- 
sciousness, and began to 
mutter incoherently, 

Half an hour had passed 
before the guides found 
strength and courage to 
attempt the task of carrying 
the wounded man down to 
the village, 

The woman led the way, 
She walked slowly, but her 
footing was sure as ever 
There were great difficulties 
to be faced, for neither of 
the guides had their hands 

"It is just the time of 

day for stone avalanches," 

the elder brother muttered 

once. But perhaps the 

Spirit of the great mountain respected the 

woman's dauntless bravery, for that 

was not added to the others. 

The younger guide only spoke once during 
the long, laborious descent. The woman 
was rapidly cutting steps in the glacier 
which had to be traversed, and which was 
fortunately a fairly smooth one, without any 
alarming crevasses, and the man's eyes were 
wet as they rested on the slight, graceful 

" Das Frliukin isi tin En*tl Goitts ! " he 

All the way down she did exactly what 
was necessary to give the men the greatest 
possible assistance, and she walked into the 
hotel calmly enough, but she fainted in Miss 
Grimm's arms when that lady hurried to her 

Vallance was very ill for three weeks. 
Olga Braun appeared at table d'hote three 
Original from 





ii2_ _— - 


days later, although she limped and her 
hands were bandaged. Vallance called 
ceaselessly for her, but they were afraid her 
presence might excite him* Miss Grimm 
nursed the young man devotedly, and it was 
she who told him the story of his rescue. 

The whole village could talk of nothing 
else ; the guides had to tell the story in 
detail to every inhabitant and every visitor 
separately. And the first time Miss Braun 
appeared in public she received an ovation 
that was so earnest and so deeply sympathetic 
that she could not find it in her heart to be 

At last Vallance was allowed to see her, 
He was passiora ely humble ; she was a little 
embarrassed, and tried to make him talk of 
something else but his gratitude. 

" What can you think of me?" he said. 
" I insulted you and your sex — even the 
name you bear— to your very face, and you 
repay me by saving my life at the almost 

certain risk of 
your own, by at- 
tempting a thing 
that even those 
fine fellows, Fritz 
and his brother, 
shirked ! What 
can I say but 
that I loathe 
myself and my 
ignorant pre- 
sumption, my 
blind, stupid 
prejudice? You 
and Miss On mm 
have, indeed, 
heaped coals 
of fire on my 
head ! " 

<; Don't think 

of it any more," 

she said. "It was my fault that you 

didn't know who I was. I asked the 

proprietor to keep my name a secret — 

I wanted rest ; I did not intend to do 

any climbing this year. And every man has 

a right to his own opinion, you know," she 

added, with a little smile. 

"My opinion was based on crass ignorance 
and conceit," he said, gloomily. "It wasn't 
worth holding and you can never forgive 
me ! " 

" But I do," she said, " and you must 
believe it," 

A week later she came to bid him good-bye. 
" I must leave to-day," she said. " I am 
to meet my sister at Lucerne." 

He seized her hands and kissed them. 
" Before you go, let me ask you some- 
thing," he said, "and tell you something. I 
love you— how could I help it? The life 
you saved is yours for ever. Will you take 
it, Olga — will you be my wife?" 

"We know so little of each other," she 
said, but something in the rich, low voice 
m;ide him bold. 

"At least, then," he urged, " may I come 
and see you, so that we can learn more cf 
each other, and will you teach me to love 
and know and understand the mountains as 
you do ? " 

*' That," she said, and there was a light in 
her eyes that he read as a promise of more, 
u I will gladly undertake," 

by Google 

Original from 

Science in the New Century* 


Intrrvikws with Sir Norman Lockybr, Srn W. II. Prkece, Sik J. Wolfe Habry, Sir William 

Crookes, Mr. b W\ Swan, M, Bert helot (Secretary of the French Academy of S( ifnckk], Sir 

Henry RoscOEj and Mr. Thomas Bryant (Ex-PKEstDistfT of the Royal. College of Surgeons}, 

By Frederick Dolman, 

r has been the century of 
Science writ largest. That 
much must be conceded by 
the historian, whatever he may 
have to say concerning the 
nineteenth century's many 
other claims. Railways and steamships, tele- 
graphs and telephones, electric lighting and 
traction, the phonograph and the motor-car, 
Rontgen's rays and Marconi's messages. 
Can the century upon which we are just 
entering possibly have in store for the world 
any similar series of scientific achievements ? 

made my first call, had no difficulty in reply- 
ing to my question as regards astronomy. 

" We can count," he remarked, as he 
stood in front of the fire in his official room 
at South Kensington, " upon the new century 
witnessing several most important achieve- 
ments in the sphere of astronomy. To the 
progress of the science the most valuable 
contribution will probably be made in 
America, which now has more observers 
and better instruments than either England 
or Germany. 

"The first of these achievements will, I 


( ['hatuffrtlfJl 

What are the "fairy tales of science" to 
which, having regard to this record of the 
marvellous, the new century may be reason 
ably expected to give the substance of fact? 
With such queries upon my lips I have been 
calling upon some of the most distinguished 
scientists of the day, the representatives of 
physics and chemistry, astronomy, electricity, 
mechanics, and medicine. 

Sir Norman Lockyer, the director of the 
Solar Physics Observatory, upon whom I 

Vol. xx i.— 8- 

by LiOOglC 

think, enable us by means of the spectra of 
sun-spots to forecast famines in India and 
droughts in Australia, as well as other impor- 
tant weather changes, a long time in advance. 
I have arrived at this conviction as the 
result of the work carried on in this observa- 
tory since its establishment twenty-five years 
ago. We shall be able to predict, not only 
the time, but also the area and extent, of 
drought and famine, thus rendering it possible 
to take timely precautions/* 

"This will certainly be an important 




addition to the practical service which 
astronomy renders to mankind." 

" Yes, and may give a fresh fillip to 
astronomical work in the new century. So 
long as scientific research is merely specula- 
tive Government and people generally care 
very little about it. The theories on which 
Marconi worked, for instance, had little 
interest for anybody until it was shown that 
by wireless telegraphy you would be able 
to establish regular communication between 
lighthouses and the coast, etc. When we 
first devoted attention to sun-spots people 
only laughed at us, but it will he quite 
different when the subject is shown to have 
practical value. The Indian authorities are 
already taking keen interest in the connection 
which has now been 
shown to exist be- 
tween variations in 
the heat of the sun's 
surface and the 
amount of rainfall in 
subsequent years." 

In the room I had 
a glimpse of the 
methods by which 
astronomy is prepar- 
ing to confer in the 
new century this 
fresh boon upon the 
human race. Sir 
Norman showed me 
some of the dia- 
grams whereby were 
measured in lines 
spots on the sun as 
recorded by the 
camera in India, 
Mauritius, and other 
distant observatories, 
the photographs 
being taken every 
day and regularly 
forwarded to South 
Kensington, On an 
adjoining table, too, 

were Blue-books giving the most elaborate 
statistics as to Indian rainfall during the 
greater part of the nineteenth century. In 
these statistics I noticed a frequent gap of 
several years. 

"This occurred,' 1 Sir Norman explained, 
"in many of the more northern stations as 
a consequence of the Indian Mutiny. It 
has added considerably to the difficulty of 
my task/ 1 

Sir Norman then spoke of three other 
important achievements in astronomy, to 

SIR ft'l'.I.IAM l-Kh feCC 
From a £%*lo. by frtotfft XevtwM. Ltd. 

which he looked forward in the twentieth 
century — first, the chemical classification of 
the stars ; second, the completion of a photo- 
graphic chart of the heavens ; and third, 
the substitution of photography entirely for 
the observation of individuals in recording 
"transits" of the stars. I asked him what 
practical bearing these achievements might 
be expected to have* 

" No man can say. You may take it as a 
general rule, however, that it is the seemingly 
useless in science which ultimately turns out 
to be the most useful. As I have said, 
speculation as to sun-spots was laughed at 
for a long time. From such a subject as the 
chemistry of the stars greater discoveries may 
be reasonably expected than from electricity, 

say, simply because 
it is almost virgin 
soil, whereas the 
speculative possibili- 
ties of electricity 
have probably been 

Sir \V. H. Preece, 
who shares with 
Signor Marconi the 
honour of the inven- 
tion of wireless tele- 
graphy, received me 
in his rooms at 
Queen Anne's (late, 
which are filled with 
most interesting sou- 
venirs of his long 
and distinguished 
career as an elec- 
trical engineer. 

"What is to be the 
greatest achievement 
in my own sphere of 
science during the 
coming century? 
Well, in science as 
in many other things, 
it is the unexpected 
I have no doubt in my 

which always happens 

own mind that, in the twentieth, science will 

eclipse its record of the nineteenth century : 

that the people of 2000 a,i>. will smile at our 

achievements as we smile at those of 1800. 

But in what way this will be so — who can 

tell? n 

H But in electrical engineering, as well as 
in other things, do not coming events cast 
their shadows before ?" 

M No, nof_as 3 rule. We had no previous 
premonitb^Pflif'^kSEStflfe, of the telegraph, 




the telephone, or the phonograph. We all 
ridiculed the telephone when it was first 
announced to the world, I went over to 
New York in 1877 with the intention of ex- 
posing the fraud, but Graham Bell, the in- 
ventor, convinced me after five minutes' 
conversation, because he made it clear that 
he had alighted upon an absolutely new idea. 
Wireless telegraphy was, perhaps, an ex- 
ception; I worked at it since 1882, and it 
was, of course, forecasted long before 
Marconi perfected his system. But we have 
now done as much with wireless telegraphy 
as is likely to be done. It will be most 
useful for marine and military purposes, hut 
for ordinary, everyday communication there 
is no reason why we should expect to dispense 
with the wire and the cable. Here is a paper 
on i Wireless Telephony; which you may 
like to look through — I have been working 
at the subject for some time past." 

This paper, which was contributed by Sir 
William Preece to the last meeting of the 
British Association, gives one the impression 
that as a means of communication between 
ships at sea or between islands and the 
mainland wireless telephony will be as 
generally useful in the next century as 
wireless telegraphy. But at the same time 
he would not admit that either he or Marconi 
possessed the clue to messages through space 
over an indefinite distance, as some of us had 
rashly imagined. In 
the same spirit he 
incidentally referred 
to the possibility of 
the twentieth cen- 
tury man flying 
through the air. 

"Having regard 
to what has hap- 
pened in this cen- 
tury I should not 
like to say that any- 
thing was impossible. 
But if we are to have 
a real flying machine 
it must be based on 
some entirely new 
principle, at present 
altogether beyond 
our conception. In 
ou r pre sen t k now- 
ledge, having regard 
to all the efforts and 
experiments that 
have been made in 
this direction* we can 
have no such hope* 

^Itt y HIS u , .r.i J-' HA HKV. 
Fnm a Phuto bg Lnmijcrt iB Wr*Um ■!" 

" I suppose that in the way of scientific 
inquiry most work is now being done by 
Lord Kelvin and others respecting the con 
stitution of the atmosphere. Rut it is 
impossible to say what sort of practical 
results, if any, will follow' these labours. As 
a rule, the speculative scientist follows the 
practical, he does not precede him* It was 
thus with steam, for instance — the properties 
of steam were not fully examined until after 
Watt and Stephenson had done their work. 
The Rontgen rays, as the invention of a 
speculative man, forms quite an exception, 
and in that case the invention was quite an 

"But for all that," concluded Sir William, 
" I am confident that science will excel itself 
in the coming century. Even in this century 
we have seen much more achievement in the 
second than in the first half. And you must 
remember that with the spread of scientific 
education on every hand the number of 
workers applying themselves to all sorts of 
problems is rapidly multiplying." 

" Forty years ago, when I first entered the 
profession," said Sir John Wolfe Barry, the 
engineer of the Tower Bridge, in his room at 
Delahay Street, Westminster, u it was said to 
me that engineering had practically no future 
— the railways, canals, docks, and other 
important undertakings which the world 

required were nearly 
all carried out. Yet 
since then engineers 
have never been so 
busy. The Suez 
Canal has been 
finished, also the 
Manchester Ship 
Canal ; several great 
railways and docks 
have been con- 
structed, many big 
schemes of water 
supply carried out. 
So I have no doubt 
it will be in the next 
century — engineer- 
ing will have as large 
a share in the pro- 
gress of the twen- 
tieth as it has had 
in the nineteenth 
century, although it 
is difficult to indi- 
cate exactly what its 

inalfroF^Vi?^ - 



"Some people arc looking to engineers, 
are they not, to utilize the energy not only of 
the great waterfalls, but also of the tides of 
the sea? " 

14 Yes, but at present there is no definite 
prospect of this idea being realized. Not 
only would the engineering works required 
to store the energy of the tides be very 
expensive, but the supply of this energy 
would necessarily be very irregular and 
uncertain. It is for similar reasons thnt 
wind -power has been disused, a windmill 
being costly in proportion to the amount of 
energy obtained from it, and the energy 
itself being irregular and uncertain. Of 
course, in regard to 
either wind or tide, 
an engineer may 
arise with some new 
plan overcoming 
these objections, and 
in this sense there is 
scope for one of the 
greatest achieve- 
ments on the part of 
engineering in the 
new century* Our 
attention in this 
country has been 
turned to the tides 
because we lack any 
great waterfall ; but, 
on the other hand, 
in some parts of the 
country we get a 
large amount of rain* 
If the rain which 
falls near Ben Nevis, 
for instance, were 
stored it would fur- 
nish an enormous 
amount of hydraulic 
pressure. This could 
be done on well-tried 
engineering principles, and seems to me 
much the more hopeful way of dealing with 
the problem which is likely to be created by 
the increasing cost of coaL 

"Another most important problem which 
will have to be solved in the new century is 
that of street traffic in London and our other 
large cities, In this connection I was much 
interested in the moving platform at the 
Paris Exhibition, and I see no reason why 
the idea should not be largely adopted. 
Constructed underneath or overhead, such 
platforms along main thoroughfares would 
have many obvious advantages over other 
methods of locomotion — there would be no 

SI i-. v, i 
Fnm\ a Phuto. bit Gecrree yewntr^ fML 

waiting on the part of passengers, and abso- 
lutely no danger of accidents. The platforms 
might be municipal and free to the public," 

" You have taken great interest in this 
question of street traffic, Sir John ? " 

"Yes; as you may remember, I have 
advocated before the Society of Arts the re- 
construction of important London thorough- 
fares on a large scale and in accordance 
with a systematic plan* Subways and under- 
ground railways do not entirely solve the 
question — you have got to provide for an 
enormously increased and ever increasing 
traffic in the streets themselves, I am also 
of opinion that the conflict of traffic, both 

passenger and vehi- 
cles, at certain points 
such as Piccadilly 
and Ludgate Circus 
— should be reme- 
died by new tho- 
roughfares, either 
overhead or under- 

Sir John also re- 
ferred to an Irish 
Channel tunnel as a 
possible e ngi n ee r i ng 
achievement of the 
new century, but 
would not commit 
himself to a favour- 
able opinion, as 
there was not yet 
sufficient data as to 
the geology of the 
bed of the Channel. 
In respect to the 
English Channel 
tunnel, on the other 
hand, full informa- 
tion had been ob- 
tained and engineer- 
ing difficulties dis- 
counted. This tunnel might certainly be an 
achievement of the new century if it were 
thought commercially and politically advis- 
able and as to that the eminent engineer 
evidently had his doubts. 

Sir William Crookes, with whom I had a 
short conversation in his working-room— half 
laboratory and half study— at his residence 
in Kensington Park Gardens, declared at the 
outset that such a forecast as I proposed to 
him must necessarily be limited in scope to 
the application of existing ideas. 

" I was reading recently," he remarked, 
"Mr R QrigvyjsffOIWhen the Sleeper 




Awakens/ and I found that every one of the 
things imagined by the author to have taken 
place was merely a further extension of some- 
thing which we have already. 1 have no 
doubt, in my own mind, for example, that the 
next century wilL see a great multiplication 
of 'twopenny tubes/ We shall have every 
house in London connected with every other 
house by telephone* The phonograph will 
be in common use* I don't feel certain that 
London will be covered with glass, although, 
in my opinion, our cities would be much 
more comfortable if one could go out and 
ahout regardless of rain, cold, and fog. But 
all this, you will say, represents no fresh 
achievement on the part of science. Well, I 
might add the flying machine, which is 
almost sure to be perfected some time next 
century. Aerial navigation is now, I believe, 
only a matter of money. If only Govern- 
ments would devote big sums to its solution 
the problem would soon be solved/' 

This view, readers 
will note, is in direct 
opposition to that 
which another emi- 
nent chemist — Sir 
William Preece — ex- 
pressed to me, Sir 
William Crookes had 
seemingly been much 
more impressed by 
Count Zeppelin's 
recent experiments. 

(t For the rest," 1 Sir 
William proceeded, 
"I con only say that 
it is very often the 
unexpected which 
happens, It is my 
belief that after the 
telephone and the 
more recent discovery 
of * radium ' scientists 
will be very chary of 
using the word * im- 
possible/ We all 
thought the idea of 
the telephone prepos- 
terous. We knew that 
certain sounds could 
be projected from a 

piece of iron, but to suppose that all the 
varied intonations "of the human voice could 
be so conveyed wrts impossible. Yet it is 
so, although I, for one, confess that even now 
I do not understand why it should be so. 
As regards 'radium,' little or nothing can be 
said at the moment from the practical point 

of view. But, as an example of seemingly 
continuous energy —something of which we 
had previously no conception— who can tell 
of what fresh achievement it may he the 

Sir William Crookes did not tell me— as 
he might well have done — that he himself 
was on the verge of discovering the Rontgen 
rays some years before the German scientist 
bestowed upon the world this valuable aid to 
the surgeon's art. This interesting circum- 
stance was incidentally mentioned to me a 
day or two later, when I called upon Mr. J. 
W, Swan, F.R.S., the electrician and inventor, 
in Holland Park. 

" I remember Sir William," said Mr. 
Swan, "once showing me just such rays in 
the course of some experiments he was 
making with phosphorescent effects, although 
neither he nor I had any idea as to 
their extraordinary penetrative effect, On 

Fntm a f'krrto. bp| 

J, W, SWAN. 

[Gwrpfl jVimxh/j, Ltd. 

another occasion, it seems, Sir William 
complained of some finger-marks on photo- 
graphic plates which he attributed to 
carelessness in manufacture, although there 
can now be little doubt that they were 
brought about by his own work in producing 
X-rays, as thS^fi^g■infi6*^'MWecL' , 




My conversation with Mr. Swan, whose 
incandescent lamp associates his name with 
that of Edison, suggested that one of the 
greatest achievements of the twentieth 
century may be the substitution of some 
new chemical for the present mechanical 
method of generating electricity, 

"At present, of course, " Mr. Swan 
remarked, "the chemical method is much 
the more difficult and expensive, At this 
Holland Park Station on the New Central 
London Railway machinery of something 
like 3,000 horse - power is employed to 
generate the electricity for driving the trains 
and lifts and for the lighting. Well, at the 
present time an incalculable number of 
batteries would be required to provide an 
equivalent amount of electricity* For the 
time being the attempt to generate electri- 
city chemically has been almost abandoned. 
Yet in some respects the electric current 
would be more convenient in the form of a 
battery than it is distributed from a generat- 
ing station, and there is no reason if) the 
nature of the case why some fresh discovery 
in the new century should not show that it can 
be produced chemically with much greater 
cheapness, although I don't profess to have 
any idea what sort of discovery it will be, 

"The increasing cost of motive-power will 
probably stimulate efforts in this direction. 
More general u^e and further improvement in 
lamps will doubtless cheapen electric light 
very much, but, after all, the great impedi- 
ment is the increasing cost of motive-power. 

It is true that we get out of coal only from 
10 to 15 per cent, of the energy it contains, 
and many efforts have been made to prevent 
this waste, but, so far, without success*" 

"Then you are not too sanguine, Mr. 
Swan, that in the new ceittury Electra will 
become a sort of omnipotent fairy, doing all 
the hard work in daily life ? " 

"No, although I have no doubt that the 
use of electricity in industries, both large and 
small, will be much extended, But I don't 
think it likely that it will be found advan- 
tageous for, say, cleaning the windows and 
scrubbing the floors of our houses, as im- 
aginative writers have suggested, although a 
few people may choose to employ it as an 
exquisite way of having such things done. 
Nor would I dare to commit myself to the 
opinion that, in the nest century, electricity 
will entirely supersede gas as an illuminanL" 

As might be expected, electricity was 
much in evidence in Mr. Swan's own 
house ; everywhere electric lights and bells, 
of course, whilst in the drawing-room I 
noticed an electrophone, and in the extensive 
basement inspected several laboratories and 
workshops wherein such motive-power as is 
required proceeds from electricity. 

In contrast with Mr. Swan's stud led 
moderation may be quoted the roseate 
views of M. Berthelot, the world-renowned 
French scientist, who occupies the represen- 
tative position of secretary to the Academy 
of Sciences, M. Berthelot was unfortunately 

Fnm\ a FktJ& 

*' A 





away from home when I endeavoured to see 
him in Paris, but he kindly referred me, in 
the place of an interview, to an address 
which he delivered in April, 1897, at a 
dinner of the " Chambre Syndicale des 
Produits Chimiques." In this address, which, 
although partly humorous in form, had 
throughout a serious meaning, M. Berthelot 
clearly indicated his belief that in the 
twentieth century the greatest scientific 
achievement would be the chemical manu- 
facture of food, although this is to be 
preceded by an equally revolutionary change 
in motive-power* 

"It is easy/' observes M. Berthelot, "to 
conceive the prin- 
ciple of this inven- 
tion* It will be 
necessary to utilize 
the heat of the sun 
and the heat at the 
centre of our globe. 
The incessant pro- 
gress of science gives 
rise to the legitimate 
hope of capturing 
these sources of 
limitless energy. In 
order to capture the 
central heat, for 
example, it will be 
sufficient to sink 
wells at a depth of 
four to five thousand 
mfetres — which does 
not surpass the 
powers, perhaps, of 
present ■ day engi- 
neers, and certainly 
will not those of 
future engineers, 
We shall find in this 
heat the support of 
all life and all industry* Thus the water 
at the bottom of these wells would reach 
a temperature and possess a pressure 
capable of driving any possible number of 

u With the day," continues this dis- 
tinguished Frenchman, "on which energy 
can be obtained thus economically would 
come the manufacture of food of all kinds 
with carbon extracted from carbonic acid, 
with hydrogen taken from water, with 
nitrogen and oxygen taken from the at mo 
sphere. That which vegetation produces at 
present, with the aid of energy borrowed 
from the surrounding universe, we shall yet 
accomplish, and we shall accomplish it better, 

5 [It IIKMHY hUSO'lt. 

Prom a FAota. by W. £ It. Iknewe. 

in a fashion more extensive and more perfect 
than by the action of Nature —for such is the 
power of chemistry. 

" In the next century the day will come 
when everybody will carry his little gaseous 
tablet, his little ball of fatty matter, his little 
bit of sugar, his little bottle of aromatic spice, 
according to his personal taste ; all these 
things produced more economically and in 
inexhaustible quantities by our chemical 
manufactories, independently of seasons, of 
rain or drought, of heat, which dries up 
plants, or of cold, which blights fruit ; all free 
from the microbes which cause epidemics 
and are the enemies of human life." 

This was the first 
theme, regarded in a 
somewhat less san- 
guine spirit, of Sir 
Henry Roscoe, who 
was President of the 
Chemical Society in 
1882 and of the 
British Association 
in 1887, I had a 
quarter of an hour 
with Sir Henry in 
the Athenaeum Club, 
at which temple of 
learning his is pro- 
bably one of the 
most familiar faces, 
as it certainly must 
be one of the most 

" More," he an- 
swered, emphatically t 
when I inquired of 
Sir Henry whether 
he considered that 
science was as likely 
to do as much fur 
mankind in the coming as it has done in the 
past century. Kul he was much less emphatic 
in speaking of the particular achievements 
by which the chemist and other scientists 
would make good this prediction, 

"We hear much/' Sir Henry remarked, 
"as to the artificial preparation of natural 
products by chemical means. As an example 
of this I may quote the case of the artificial 
production of indigo and also of cane sugar, 
although up to the present the chemist's 
sugar cati not compete in price with that of 
the vegetable product* The power of the 
chemist is such that he may look forward to 
the artificial preparation of any material pos- 
sessing a gaseous, a liquid, or a crystalline 




form, many of these, doubtless, with practical 

" But I don't think there is much substance 
in the speculation, advanced in some quarters, 
as to the possibility of the men and women 
of the next century taking their food generally 
in a concentrated chemical form. The most 
important articles of food, after all, are grain 
and flesh, and our present knowledge does 
not suggest the possibility of the chemist 
providing, even in the course of a century, 
a satisfactory substitute for bread, beef, or 
mutton — inasmuch as so far the production 
by artificial means of material possessing 
organized structure seems beyond the 
power of the chemist's synthesis." 

"In which direction, Sir Henry, do you 
consider, then, that science is likely to achieve 
most ? " 

" That is very hard to say. In one direc- 
tion the twentieth century will, in my opinion, 
not witness such changes as have occurred in 
the nineteenth. Thus science has solved the 
problem of cold storage, and has been in- 
strumental in bringing food from where it is 
not required to where it is. But, so far as I 
can judge, the annihilation of distance in this 
and in other respects which our century has 
witnessed cannot be carried very much farther 
in the next ; the Atlantic voyage, for instance, 
which can now be accomplished in five 
days, is not likely to be reduced to one. We 
must look in other directions for similar 
progress of an epoch - making character. 
Perhaps the most important question with 
which science is now concerning itself is the 
utilization of fresh sources of energy, and the 
increasing cost and decreasing quantity of coal 
must stimulate its efforts in this direction. 
The next century, I should say, will certainly 
witness the harnessing of many Niagaras. 

" Unfortunately our own country, which 
has had so great an advantage in its abund- 
ance of coal, is comparatively deficient in 
falling water. It is true that attention is 
also being directed to turning to account the 
force of the tides, and in this respect, as an 
insular country, we should be gainers. But 
it is difficult to see how the tides could be 
utilized without great expenditure on en- 
gineering, and for this reason I am afraid 
that in the next century tidal power will not 
be an effective competitor of the force, say, 
of the Niagara or the Zambesi." 

Sir Henry Roscoe then expressed a view 
which explained his emphatic affirmative in 
answering my first question. 

" I am disposed to think that the greatest 
progress of the next century will be made in 

the application of science for the benefit of 
humanity, as well as in fresh invention or 
discovery. In sanitation on scientific princi- 
ples, and especially in preventive medicine, 
science has an important part to play. In 
this respect we have made some progress 
during the latter part of this century, but 
that is insignificant in comparison with what 
we may legitimately look forward to in 
the coming century for the prevention of 
epidemic disease and the amelioration of the 
ills to which, hitherto, flesh has been heir." 

From the standpoint of medical science, 
Mr. Thomas Bryant, the President of the 
Royal College of Surgeons from 1893 *° 
1896, whom I consulted finally, spoke to 
some extent in indorsement of this view. 

" Twenty or thirty years ago," said Mr. 
Bryant, as he received me in his Grosvenor 
Street consulting-room, "an eminent surgeon 
of that time committed himsej£ to the opinion 
that in our profession the acfae of scientific 
achievement had been reached, that we had 
gone about as far as it was possible to go. 
How absurd such a statement seems to-day ! 
One is inclined fo think that the man who 
made it, a man of great skill and scientific 
knowledge, too, must have been mad. 

**It is true that practically no further 
advance has been made with the two great 
achievements of the earlier part of this 
century — the use of anaesthetics and anti- 
septics. With regard to them we may have 
reached the end of possibilities. But, on 
the eve of the new century, I feel that in 
medicine and surgery we can look forward 
to even greater achievements and discoveries. 
Some of them we can clearly see coming." 

" And the greatest of these is ? " 

" Well, the bacteriological work of the past 
few years clearly foreshadows both the pre- 
vention and cure of diseases that are now 
generally regarded as hopeless, such as 
cancer and phthisis or consumption. The 
cure of consumption has, I know, been pre- 
maturely announced more than once, but 
from what has already been achieved there is 
good reason to believe that it will really 
become an accomplished fact before the 
new century is very far advanced. For 
similar reason we may look forward to the 
extirpation of the plague in India. We are 
now in what may be called the second stage 
of this work, the discovery of the friendly 
bacteria — for bacteria, you know, can be 
friendly as well as hostile to human life — 
and this is certain to be fruitful in great 




"Another achievement which is, I think, 
not very far off is the prevention of malaria. 
It is now well established that mosquitoes 
are the principal agency in the spread of this 
fever, and with drainage and other sanitary 
measures mosquitoes might be exterminated 
or rendered innocuous. It is my impression 
that some time during next century such 
fever spots as the West Coast of Africa — in 
fact, tropical climates generally - will be 
rendered as healthy as, say, the Fens of 
Lincolnshire, which be- 
fore their irrigation were 
also breeding - places of 

" What is to be ex- 
pected in surgery or medi- 
cine, Mr. Bryant, from the 
use of the X-rays ? " 

" Well, although the 
utility of Rontgeirs dis- 
covery lias, of course, 
been demonstrated be- 
yond all doubt, it is hard 
to say of what achieve- 
ments it may be the fore- 
runner. At present we 
are like children in the 
use of the rays, and, as 
several cases have sug- 
gested, for some time to 
come the greatest caution 
will he necessary in 
applying them for cura- 
tive pur poses, although 
their value in this way 
may prove to be very great. On the other 
hand, there can be no doubt that the X-rays, 
although they can hardly add much to 
our knowledge of anatomy, will so facilitate 
the diagnosis of disease, as well as of 
wounds, that in this way Rontgen's dis- 
covery may bring about great achievements 
in preventive medicine. In fact," laughingly 

MK. I Filial A 

From a J 'Auto, bf CkarU* 

continued Mr. Bryant, " our profession is 
undermining itself in all directions. In the 
next century it may become necessary to 
introduce the plan of the Chinese, who pay 
their doctors so long as they are in good 

li Nevertheless, nervous disease is said to 
be on the increase. In this resjHxt is 
hypnotism likely to achieve any great result 
next century ? " 

"Ah, who can say? It is unfortunate 
that hypnotism has 
hitherto been so much 
in the hands of quacks 
and charlatans, bent only 
on exploiting it for 
money-making purposes. 
I am certainly of opinion 
that the subject ought to 
be earnestly taken in 
hand from the medical 
stand [Joint. Although no 
definite result can be at 
present anticipated, it 
does undeniably offer 
great possibilities, and 
for this reason should be 
attractive to young, en- 
thusiastic students and 

Mr. Bryant himself still 
seems enthusiastic if he 
is no longer young, even 
judged by our fin-de-sieck 
standard : lie is s event y- 
two. Before taking my 
leave I endeavoured to obtain his opinion 
as to the longevity of the twentieth century 
man. But on this point Mr. Bryant's pro- 
phetic instinct did not get so far as a figure. 
And I did not dare to remind him that m 
the belief of a Russian doctor, M. Elie 
MetchnikofF, the twentieth century man will, 
if it so pleases him, live for ever ! 


F, TfMe. bfiwn&zr MM, 

Vol. xkL— ft. 

by Google 

Original from 


y^ n rera ^**^ Assistant -Com mis. - 
4^^ ^^8^ S ^ T Y was not regarded 
as a fighting-man. His 
appearance, it was re- 
marked, was not mili- 
tary, his uniform was 
not smart, his trousers bagged at the 
knees, and the senior subaltern had been 
heard to say that there was room in his tunic 
for some of his stores as well as his chest. 
The Assistant-Commissary's head was in- 
clined to baldness, and his beard was 
turning grey. His eyes were of the mildest 
blue, and the soft lines of his gentle face had 
not been hardened by his service West and 
East. He had determined to become a 
pensioner as soon as this small war in South 
Africa was over. 

"Dear, good, kind Railton," murmured 
the senior subaltern, "you need only look 
at him to know that the fighting spirit isn't in 
lit in. He never drew a sword nr fired a shot 
in anger. He never, I'm absolutely certain, 
wronged a living creature ; he can't bear to 
look on suffering of any sort, and I never 
heard him swear. What a record ! And he 
isn't five feet five,' 1 

As the senior subaltern uttered these words 
he looked at Railton, and saw that he was 
earnestly scanning the neighbouring hills. The 
subaltern, named Run an, was in command of 
a small body of infantry which had been left 

Digitized by Google 

to guard the wounded of a column operating 
against the Zulus, and to hold the buildings 
at the Drift in which the sick lay* The Drift 
itself was of vital importance, for it was the 
key to neighbouring British territory, and 
through it a conquering horde could 
march to devastation. The orders of 
the senior subaltern were simple— ■ to hold 
the Drift till his commanding officer 
returned. To do this he had two thinned 
companies of his regiment with him— the 
" skeletons/' they had called themselves— 
but although he could not muster a hundred 
men in both, he was as proud as if he com- 
manded a brigade, and felt equal to a 
meeting with any force the enemy liked to 
send against him. As a matter of fact, there 
was no sign of the foe, and no reason what- 
ever to suppose that he meant to swoop 
upon the Drift. 

" What transfixes you?" asked the senior 
subaltern, sauntering up to Railton s side. 

*' What do ysit make of it ? n answered the 

Assistant-Commissary, pointing to the foot 

of one of the hills* . 

Original from 




The senior subaltern looked, and f saw two 
or three mounted men dash furiously on to 
the plain and make for the camp. 

"They're our own people— and in a 
hurry, too," said Barran, uneasily. 

" They're in something more than hurry — 
they're panic-stricken," said Railton. 

Even then the senior subaltern noticed 
that 4Mb Assistant-Commissary spoke very 
quietly ; but he thought that, not being a 
combatant, he could not know what such 
a flight might mean, and did not appreciate 
the situation. 

The senior subaltern was a brave man, 
but he turned hot and cold as the mounted 
men rode hard towards him, and he saw that 
they must have hurried from some stricken 
battle-field. The first to get near enough 
to hail him was a brother officer, one who 
had gone away with the Colonel. 

" What's the matter, Howard ? " demanded 

" Battalion rushed by the Zulus and wiped 
out — not a score of us have got away. And 
they're coming to attack the Drift ! " 

He tried to get out of his saddle as he 
spoke, and Barran saw that he could not, as 
his left hand was smashed by a bullet. He 
helped his comrade to alight. 

41 Good God !" he exclaimed, when Howard 
stood on the ground beside him. 

" It's true— butchered ! Near the Hill of 
the Little Hand," gasped Howard. " May I 
never see such a sight again. But you, 
Barran, what will you do ? The Zulus are 
coming here in swarms." 

" Hold the Drift till the Colonel comes," 
answered Barran. 

44 Then you'll have to hold it till the Day 
of Judgment, for the Colonel has a dozen 
spear-thrusts in him," observed Howard, 

44 Then I'll hold out till the General comes," 
continued Barran, speaking in growing ex- 
citement. 4< He knows we're here, and will 
push on as soon as he learns of the disaster 
to the battalion. We mustn't lose an instant. 
I can't even ask you about the disaster, 
although I'm sick to learn the details. 
Railton, hurry to the river and tell Raine 
to come back instantly with his men. You, 
Howard, and the rest of you, come on." 

He hurried away, the fugitives with him, 
while Railton ran to the neighbouring river 
and alarmed Lieutenant Raine and half-a- 
dozen men who were engaged with him there 
on some engineering work. 

14 Strike the tents," ordered Barran, and 
the white canvas fell flat upon the ground. 

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" Do your best, Raine," he added, to the 
Engineer, " to get some sort of defences 
ready against these hordes of savages. But 
get your hand looked to, Howard." 

44 That can wait — there's no time now," 
answered Howard. "Thring can be better 
employed than in looking after me. I'll wind 
a handkerchief round the wrist and hang on 
till we've finished with the niggers." As he 
spoke he got a piece of linen and bound his 
wrist with it. 44 Lucky it's not the fighting 
hand," he declared. 44 Now I'm ready." 

The senior subaltern, the Engineer officer, 
the Assistant-Commissary, and Thring, the 
medical officer, fell furiously to work prepar- 
ing for defence. They and the men dragged 
mattresses from the buildings, hauled mealie- 
bags and grain - bags forth, fetched the 
prostrate tents, and laid rough hands on 
biscuit - boxes, tarpaulins, tent - poles, and 
stray articles of furniture. 

With these things and a waggon they built 
a barricade behind which they took shelter, 
and prepared to fight for their own lives 
and the forty sick and wounded men in 
hospital. Barran looked about him, and 
felt but dubiously secure in the natural and 
manufactured strength of his position. In 
his rear were the buildings of the Drift, 
every one containing helpless soldiers ; in 
front was the frail barricade, the waggon in 
the centre, and for the rest a wall of mattress, 
canvas, biscuit-box, and grain-bag. 

The sullen neighbouring hills were hold- 
ing, if the fugitives snoke truly, Zulu impis, 
blood - glutted, ana thirsting for more 
slaughter, who would swoop down on the 
Drift like wolves on the fold. It was now 
four o'clock in the afternoon, and the 
supreme question was : Could the defence 
hold out till night, when darkness might put 
a stop to the attack or enable reinforcements 
to come? The fate of the battalion which 
had been annihilated would soon be known, 
and then the General, who was not many 
miles away, and would know of the peril of 
the soldiers at the Drift, would hurry on at all 
costs to relieve them. 

11 1 wish," thought Barran, " that in place 
of Railton and Thring I had a couple more 
men like Howard. Railton's so gentle and 
humane, and Thring isn't a soldier." 

14 Here they come ! " cried Railton, who 
was standing near the senior subaltern. 

" Now he'll be wanting to bolt to the 
storehouse," muttered Barran, whose ex- 
tremity had induced an ungenerous mood 
foreign to his nature. 

44 Remember what I've told you, men," he 




exclaimed. u Keep your fire till they get to 
the barricade, then hit thorn swift and low. 
And don't forget the bayonet —and what 
they've done at the Little Hand." 

With revenge impelling them— revenge for 
th .? butchery of nearly the whole of their 
battalion— and nerves strung with the intense 
resolve to fight for life, every man for 
himself, the little band awaited the first 
onrush of the enemy. It came relentlessly. 

The Zulus spread out from the hills in 
front of the barricade, expanded in a horse- 
shoe form until the Drift was fully com- 
passed, then with a war-cry of u Umti!" that 
rang over the plain and echoed up the silent 

his was the first shot to speed from the 
barricade, He had marked a towering chief 
on horseback, and the warlike figure reeled 
and tumbled from the saddle. 

"The ball is open, and Fve led the 
dancing," exclaimed Railton, reloading. 
64 May I live to see the finish ! " 

Barran heard him, but his cry of " Bravo 1" 
was lost in. the rattle of the musketry, and 
Railton himself became a shadow in the 

" Drive them back ! " cried Barran* His 
voice was loud and clear, but only one or 
two of those who wt re nearest to him heard 
the words. It was not needful that they 


hills, they hurled themselves against the 
stubborn foe, 

" They cry * lTW/ 1 - cowards," said Railton. 
"Let them wait and see." 

Barran, to whom he spoke, looked round, 
and saw that he had mistaken his man. The 
Assistant -Commissary's face was soft and 
gentle no longer, it was as inflexible as any 
other at the Drift ; his mild blue eyes 
glittered with the light of battle ; and his 
slender form was as firm and straight as 
Barren's own, and Barran was reckoned the 
smartest figure in the regiment. 

Railton held a rifle, and held it like a man 
who knew how to use it, and meant to use it 

He raised it coolly and deliberately, and 

Digitized by GOOQIC 

should, for the onslaught of 
the enemy showed how poor 
the chance of life would be if 
once they got behind the en- 
trenchment. Bullets came in 
murderous diisLTs, striking the 
biscuit boxe%with dull reports, 
splintering the furniture, boring 
into the grain -bags and the 
canvas, flattening themselves 
against the walls of the buildings, and some 
crashing through the windows, while assegais, 
thrown by sinewy and malignant arms, hurtled 
through the air like swooping birds. 

In the fierceness of the first onrush a 
gigantic Zulu j screaming his war-cry, sprang 
against the barricade, and with a tremendous 
bound alighted on the top. His great, black, 
muscular form was for an instant silhouetted 
against the sky. He raised his spear, and 
was about to jump into the midst of the 

Railton saw him and divined his purpose, 
and as the warrior leaned inward for the 
spring he thrust at him with his bayonet, 
leaping upward as he did so, the better to 
drive home his thrust, ,- 

Original from 


6 9 


The Zulu fell back with a wild cry. 
Instantly another was in the place where he 
had been standing. Him also the Assistant- 
Commissary — who was no soldier — hurled 
back, then shouting that he could work 
better higher up, he climbed to the top of 
the barricade and plied his weapon fiercely, 
using the steel only, for the pressing need of 
action gave no chance of firing then, 

A shower of bullets and assegais went over 
and about the figure on the grain-bags, and 
it toppled over and rolled at the soldiers' 

''Riddled like a sieve — must be," ex- 
claimed Howard, with a groan of regret. 

"Should be, if I weren't so little, and my 
clothes didn't bag," said Rail ton, cheerfully, 
as he sat up, and then rose to his feet. " As 
it is. I'm only winded and a bit dazed." 

k -eagle 

Howard, convinced of his 
error, and delighted to find 
that he was in the wrong, was 
blazing away again with his 
revolver Railton, through 
whose plenteous clothing three 
bullets had passed, took his 
place behind some biscuit- 
boxes, mid, aiming as well as 
lie could in the thickening 
smoke, paid his tribute to the 

An assault like that, needing 
such vast energy for its delivery, 
could not be maintained for 
long, and the defence found 
that the bullets and assegais 
were thinning, and that the 
Zulus were withdrawing. When 
the thick, choking, slowly- 
rising smoke had broken 
enough for them to see 
through, they saw that the 
Zulus were hurrying away to 
the foot of the hills, dragging 
and carrying their wounded 
with them. The dead they 
had left as they had fallen, and 
it was seen that they almost 
formed another barricade out- 
side the first. 

"They'll swoop clown again/ 1 
said Howard, warningly; 
"they're only drawing oft for 
a little while. They did so at 
the other place/' 

"Yes, they'll face the music 
again," said Barran* 

" Then we shall have to 
make 'em dance an even 
livelier tune," added the Assistant -Com- 

" You're a fraud," observed the senior 
subaltern, with fierce admiration. " You've 
deceived us all along. Who taught you to 
fight in this way? JJ 

" Insiinct," replied Railton. * 4 Besides, 
who could help fighting at a time like this ?" 
Nothing more was said. Time was too 
precious for talk, and so every officer and 
man set to work to strengthen the defence, 
and get more ammunition in readiness for 
the renewal of the attack. The lull was 
welcome, too, because it gave a chance for 
the removal to the buildings of men who 
had been shot down or stabbed, and to drag 
from near the barricade the bodies of some 
soldiers who would fight no more. 

Again the black ttd- rolled from the hills 




and spread over the plain, and once more 
the Zulus and the Englishmen were struggling 
furiously. Night was falling, but the Zulus 
had no thought of letting darkness stop the 

" Keep it up ! " cried Barran, encourag- 
ingly. " It can't be long before the General 
comes. Keep the ammunition going. Pass 
it round quicker than you'd pass the bottle." 

He uttered the concluding words to 
Thring, the surgeon, who had been serving 
ammunition to the fighters from the first. 
Time after time he had rushed to the 
magazine and laid violent hands upon the 
cartridges, and in the heaviest of the firing 
and thickest of the fight had gone courage- 
ously about his unprofessional business. No 
man ran greater danger, and yet the surgeon 
came by no hurt. In the interval, when the 
Zulus were re-forming out of gunshot, he had 
done what he could for the wounded, but 
now he had left them and was hard at work 
with the ammunition-cases. He longed to 
use a rifle himself, but knew that he was 
infinitely better employed as he was now, in 
running between the fighting line and the 
magazine, seeing that the pouches were kept 

If the Zulus fought with fury in their first 
attack they strove in frenzy now. In the 
earlier fight at the Little Hand they had seen 
men go down like stones, each one in his 
place. This their own best warriors had 
said, and these white men at the Drift were 
dying just as hard. There was no leaping 
over grain-bag or biscuit-box, no crawling 
under the waggon, no bursting through the 
broken furniture that looked so frail, no 
piercirtg that living, writhing bank of bearded 
men, each one of whom was grimy with the 
battle-smoke, reeking with the sweat of action, 
and most of whom were warm with trickling 
blood. If a black crawled through the waggon 
he was shot or bayoneted before he could 
regain his feet inside the barricade ; if one, 
with mad and reckless leap, bounded on to the 
top of the obstacle, he was hurled back, dead 
or sorely wounded, amongst his fellows. The 
more they fought and leaped, the swifter they 
rushed, the speedier they dropped and the 
deeper grew the barricade of bodies. 

At last, with one resistless charge, an arm 
of the enormous surging mass broke through 
the defence, beat down a section of the bar- 
ricade, and by weight of human flesh and 
bone was forced into an actual collision with 
the soldiers. Muzzles spat fire into the very 
faces of the foe ; but they, regardless of the 
death which blazed upon them, surged up 

until they touched the gory steel itself. Then 
they tried to wrench the bayonets from the 
rifles, and two or three were torn away with 
bleeding hands. 

Railton saw a Zulu who had grasped a 
bayonet and had struck aside the rifle as the 
bullet whistled from it lift his knobkerrie to 
strike the soldier on the head. He rushed 
up just in time to crash his rifle on the dark, 
fierce face, then hurried back to where the 
foe had made an entry. 

With Barran, Howard, and Thring — for at 
this supreme crisis Thring also had snatched 
a rifle, and was dealing blows beyond the 
healing of the art he practised — Railton 
contested every foot of ground ; but, all the 
time he cried that they were holding their 
own, he knew that step by step they were 
being forced upon and into the adjacent 
buildings, and that the end for all was very 

The senior subaltern, stunned by a blow, 
fell to the ground under the very feet of the 
savages. Railton seized him and dragged 
him to the door of one of the rooms in which 
the sick lay, and opening it, he pushed the 
unconscious man inside. " Get into the 
building, too," he shouted ; " we can do no 
more good here." 

Those who heard him obeyed as if he 
had been their own commanding officer. 
The Assistant-Commissary was the last to 
seek the refuge of the doorway. He then 
dashed in, slammed the door, and threw him- 
self against it. An assegai was driven into 
the woodwork, and the point buried itself in 
Railton 's shoulder as he strained against the 
door to keep it shut. Howard and Thring 
thrust with him, and they stood there 
grimly. Railton made no sound until help 
had come and the door had been barricaded. 
Then he demanded in a cheerful voice that 
Thring should help him to unhook himself. 

" It's nothing," he protested, but Thring 
insisted upon doing something, in a rough 
and ready way, to staunch the bleeding. 
" Now, I'll stand here and guard the door 
while the wounded are got somewhere else," 
said the Assistant Commissary. "The niggers 
have left us for a minute or two ; I can see 
them going." 

Railton did not say that he saw them 
collecting straw and wood to bring up and 
set the hospital on fire. That bit of news he 
thought would be better kept to himself. 
He thrust his rifle-barrel through a crack in 
the door, and fired so steadily and truly that 
the path was blocked with tributes to his 
power. But fresh warriors came on, and as 


■_-l I '_| 1 1 I u I \\\ 





darkness felt the first-fruits of the Zulus' 
bravery were tasted by them. They had set 
the hospital on fire, and as the flames 
crackled and threw a lurid light across the 
plain they raised their cry of war afresh, 

* ( It*s all over now, at any rate," said the 
senior subaltern, with a groan. 

" It'll be the Little Hand again/' added 
Howard. He shuddered as he recalled the 
fearful picture of the massacre, winch had 
been driven from his recollection in the 
turmoil of the fight. 

" Never say die while there's a door and 
wall between us," shouted Railton, exultantly* 
44 Shall I keep this doorway while you get the 
cripples somewhere else ? " 

Without awaiting leave or orders he began 
firing afresh, and when his rifle-barrel became 
too hot for use he picked up the weapon of 
a dead man near him and fired the two 
alternately. He kept the Zulus at bay until 
the sick had been removed in safety, then, as 
the flames were licking the woodwork and 

the roof was on fire, and as the 
Zulus also were beating fiercely at 
the door, he rushed across the 
smoke - laden, choking room, and 
staggered into a doorway which led 
into another apartment. 

Here men were working with 
bayonets and butts of rifles, as 
energetically as rabbits burrowing 
in the earth, to make a hole through 
the wall, for the enemy were sure 
within a few minutes to burst into 
this place also* There was a mur- 
derous beating at the door. Railton, 
with a stalwart private, was leaning 
against it, as undaunted as ever, 
but feeling weaker, for by this time 
he had several wounds upon his 
body* His shoulder gave him pain 
intense, but he never dreamed of 
• crying out. He believed that 
death must now he met by all. 
Part of the building was blazing, 
the blacks were swarming, and, 
besides defending themselves and 
the few rooms that still remained 
!S^ to them, the soldiers had the 

care and burden of the sick and 

Of those who could crawl or 

walk most got into the shelter of 

the neighbouring rooms and were 

guarded by their comrades. One 

or two, but not without enduring 

agony, clambered out of windows, 

and dragged themselves to the 

long grass outside the Drift, where they hid 

themselves ; others were butchered by the 

Zulus, amongst them a man who was crying 

in delirium. 

From the doorway which they guarded 
Railton and the private had to run and 
wriggle through a hole in the wall which the 
butts and bayonets had by this time made, 
and by means of which the wounded hud 
been removed and the fighters had with 
drawn, excepting Railton and the soldier- 
At their very heels the Zulus went, but the 
hole was swiftly plugged by bodies, and, 
unable to force an entrance through it, the 
foe ceased operations for the time, and a 
little peace fell on the party. The fire was 
being blown away from them, but there was 
light enough to show what was passing in the 


by V_iOOgle 

By the flashes of the powder they saw 

Railton sink upon the floor, and then crawl 

into a corner, as a wounded animal might 

crawl. They saw him stretch himself wearily 

Original from 


7 2 


alongside a sick man on a 
mattress, and when Barran, 
with a heavy heart, kneeled 
by his side and looked im- 
ploringly at him, his eyes - 
they had suddenly become 
very gun tie again-— closed. 

" Its all over with him," 
Barren said, rising and join- 
ing Howard. He spoke in 
choked tones, for the memory 
of his ungenerous words be- 
fore the fi^ht began was strong 
upon him. 

Howard made no answer, 
but turned away, and with set 
purpose of killing as many of 
the Zulus as he could, fired 
revengefully at any 
dusky form which 
flitted past his view. 

But the back of the 
conflict had been by 
this time broken. 
Krom that hour the 
impis made no fresh 
attempt to rush, Some 
part of the main build- 
ing was destroyed, and 
still smouldered and 
crackled in the dark- 
ness, at times breaking 

into weak flame and dying out in smoke ; but 
the portion where the defenders had sought 
refuge was intact, arid so they held their own 
through the rest of that appalling night. 

When the dawn broke the Zulus slowly 
drew away, a beaten, sullen horde, taking 
their wounded with them, and leaving 
mounds of dead to testify to their own valour 
and the courage of the men who had for 
such long hours, against such long odds, 
fought behind the grain-bags and the boxes, 

While the morning was yet young the 
General marched to the relief, and Barran, 
saluting stiffly with a useless arm, made 
known in brief and military fashion that he 
had obeyed the command of his superior 
officer. He had held the Drift. The 
butclu-ry of the Little H;md was in some 
degree atoned for, and the British Colony 
was safe. 

As he made his statement Turing, himself 
a cripple, hastened up with less of ceremony 
than the presence of the General demanded, 
and announced that Railton lived, and except- 


ing the fact that he would have to go through 
life with one arm, many scars, and a slender 
pension, would do well. 

The dead were still unburied near the 
Little Hand — they were left unsodded for 
four months, and not even the vultures 
touched them — when Railton, who was much 
swathed and bound, was told by Barren, with 
the help of Howard and professional aid 
from Hiring, that he was included in a batch 
of men who had become V\C.'s, because of 
what they had done to keep the Drift. 

The Assistant -Commissary was again a 
mild, gentle, slender little man, with more of 
greyness in his beard and hair than one had 
seen before they held the Drift. "After all/' 
he remarked, gravely, " I've done nothing 
more than any other soldier did. At any 
rate, I did nothing to deserve the Cross. I 
opened tin: ball, but I didn't see it through." 

" Not deserve it ! " echoed Barran. " Why, 
man, if you got what you're entitled to, you'd 
have bars enough on your Cross to make a 
ladder from your chest to your feet" 

by Google 

Original from 

In Front of the Stampede. 


By Alvah Milton Kerr. 

S claim-adjuster in the depart- 
ment of lost, over, and short 
freight I was, for the most 
part, " on the wing," knocking 
about over all divisions and 
branches of the road, at the 
head or tail of problems involving the 
company's money or the want of it. Old 
Perth, round-house foreman at Wandon, had 
helped me in fixing the responsibility of a 
shortage in the freighting of engine-oil from 
§ an Eastern firm, and perhaps on that account, 
or from some sort of affinity, we became fast 
friends. Of course, and quite naturally, an 
ex-dispatcher like myself and an old engineer 
like Perth could hardly escape feeling an 
interest in each other ; besides, Perth was a 
man of good intellect, and eminently worthy 
of cultivation. I rarely passed through 
Wandon without going over to the round- 
house and shops to see him. 

Sitting one day in his little office, which 
looked on the one hand into the engine- 
room, with its sixteen stalls, and on the other 
into the repair-shop, with its cranes, steam- 
hammers, lathes, and litter of engine parts, 
he told me the story of Katie Lyon's great 
ride during Long Blanket's raid, and her 
race for life in the buffalo stampede. 

" It was the first trip I ever fired an 
engine," he said. " I was then a green 
lump of a boy, only a couple of years off the 
farm. Most railroaders, you know, come 
from the corn-fields, especially in the West. 
Eighteen months in the shops at Omaha 
had given me an ambition to push my way 
toward the throttle as fast as possible, and 
wipers and firemen being plenty in my 
quarter, I came on out to the mountain 
division and went into the round-house at 
Ludder. That was way back in the sixties, 
when the first road was being pushed across 
the western half of the continent. Indians 
and buffalo and soldiers were very much in 
evidence in those days, and the line, instead 
of running clean and well-ballasted through a 
civilized land, wormed its way across five 
hundred miles of bunch-grass and sage-brush, 
and through another five hundred of moun- 
tains, a world of solitude peopled only by 
creatures of solitude. 

" There was some question as to whether 
Ludder would continue as a divisional point, 

Vo\ xxi.— 10. 

and, partly on account of its possible re- 
moval, the round-house had been constructed 
of wood instead of brick. The building con- 
tained stalls for eight engines, and stood 
some 200ft. from a creek. Into the creek 
emptied an i8in. drain carrying off the 
waste water when we washed out the engine- 
boilers. But for this drain it is probable 
that Katie Lyon would never have taken her 
memorable ride. 

" Jack Lyon, Katie's father, handled the 
throttle of the old 40. Jack was a middle- 
aged man then, and the 40 was young. Both 
are in the scrap-pile now, God bless them ! 
The advanced front of construction was 
nearly a hundred miles west of us, and such 
rolling-stock as we boasted was chiefly em- 
ployed in hauling rails, ties, machinery, men, 
and supplies toward the front. The rather 
indefinite homes of the company's employes 
at Ludder consisted, in most instances, of 
sod huts and flimsy pine cottages. Lyon's 
home lay a quarter of a mile down the creek, 
where he found it convenient to have a 
garden, irrigated from the stream by means 
of a lifting water-wheel, and where a Jersey 
cow and calf and a young white mare, 
brought from Iowa, found pasturage close at 
hand. The engineer's family consisted of a 
wife and three children — Katie, fourteen or 
fifteen years of age, and twin boys in their 
tenth summer. 

" Katie was a restless creature, boyish,- and 
as whimsical and lively as thistledown. I 
remember — you can hardly fancy how clearly 
— of often looking down from the engine- 
house and seeing the girl and the two little 
chaps playing at all sorts of pranks in the 
pasture below the house. One day it would 
be € circus,' with Katie on the mare, some- 
times standing up, urging the animal round 
a circle, with one twin as ring-master and the 
other as clown or i tumbler ' ; another day it 
would be 'cowboy,' with one of the twins or 
Katie on the mare and ' roping ' the Jersey 
calf or cow or one of the children. Once, 
when nine years old, Katie had been to a 
circus, back in Iowa, and memory of it still 
flamed in her mind with something of the 
glory of a great torch seen against the sky. 
In Eastern Nebraska, afterward, she had 
seen the knights of the sombrero and lariat 
at work, and had found them picturesque 


_■ 1 1 L| 1 1 1 a 1 




and remarkable. Imitation is the child's 
part, so they played at that which seemed 
most fanciful in their world* Lyon occasion- 
ally asked his daughter, in teasing vein, if 
she had yet decided which she was best cut 
oat for t a circus rider or a cowboy. But 
Katie's equestrian weakness ultimately served 
the little community a very good turn indeed. 

" During those days Indians were plentiful ; 
not quite so thick as grasshoppers, but un- 
comfortably numerous, and not yet corralled 
on reservations , as now. Buffalo in un- 
counted thousands 
grazed on the 
plains and in the 
wide entrances of 
the mountain val- 
leys all the way 
from Texas to 
Montana, Wild 
horses roamed in 
freedom, and the 
antelope and 
coyote were not 
afraid. It was 

lt But that order 
of things had been 
touched with 
change : the roar 
of the locomotive 
began to reverber- 
ate in the soli- 
tudes, and the 
first criminal 
slaughterers of the 
bison herds had 
begun their awful 
work. The Indians 
grew resentful and 
troublesome, and 
details of United 
States troops had 
often to be called 
out to guard the 
railroad and 
d efe n eel ess settle- 
ments. Then came 

the general attack led by Chief Long Blanket 
on the north and by Black Calf from the 
south. That brought to light the real stuff of 
most of us , and it was then I found out the 
true-blue steel of which Katie was made. She 
used to come up to the station almost every 
time that her father came in with his engine, 
and would usually climb into the cab and 
mount the fireman's seat, and ring the bell 
while I ran the engine into the house. When 
Lyon wasn't looking, I remember, I used to 

by Google 

let her hold the throttle as we went down to 
the round-house switch. She could always 
do almost anything with me. 

" Well, one September morning a report 
came from the front that the men on con- 
struction had been having a warm time with 
the redskins and wanted help. Three troops 
of the Third Cavalry were in camp on the 
creek a mile or so from Ludder^ and a mes- 
senger was sent in all speed to notify them. 
Old Fort Chandler lay off to the south-west 
of us about fifteen miles, and the blue-shirts 

had been brought 
near the track in 
order that they 
might strike 
quickly, for dis- 
turbing rumours 
had been coming 
in for some weeks 
of a general up- 
rising of the 
savages, Major 
Holme had gone 
west from Fort 
Chandler in search 
of Black Calf and 
his band, leaving 
the troops at the 
fort reduced to a 
small number — 
three companies, 
under the com- 
mand of Captain 
Pope, having been 
detached to guard 
the railroad and 
settlement at 
Ludder. Black 
Calf, however, had 
given Holme the 
slip, and was 
making a long 
detour to the 
south and east to 
strike us at the 
katie lvok, division station ; 

but all were ignor- 
ant of this. Reports had come in that Long 
Blanket, with a band of warriors, had been 
seen in the low foot-hills north of the track, 
some twenty miles west of us, and Pope was 
preparing to swing his force against them, 
when word came that his men w r ere needed 
at the front, eighty miles west. 

''The superintendent of construction, who 

was at the front, had sent the message. It 

came by wire, early in the morning, and 

within the hour Pope was at the station with 

Original from 




his troops. The horses and luggage were 
hurriedly loaded into box-cars, most of the 
boys boarded other box-cars, while two flat 
cars were thrown into the centre of the 
train, each bearing a mounted howitzer and 
a staked breastwork of railroad iron and a 
complement of soldiers. Engine 40 was 
brought out and hooked on ahead. Her fire- 
man being sick, I was ordered to go with 
Lyon and fire the engine. That met my wish 
precisely, for I was anxious to begin firing; 
besides, there was the enticing vision of a 
battle at the front. I was young then. It 
wouldn't entice me now. 

" Nearly everyone in the straggling village 
of Ludder came out to see us off. Lyon's 
wife, with the twins and an anxious face, 
was there; and while Lyon was oiling round 
Katie climbed up into the cab and slipped a 
revolver under the cushion of the fireman's 
seat. i It's father's ; you may need it, Joe,' 
she said, and laughed over her shoulder to 
me as she jumped to the ground from the 
gangway. I grinned and blushed, little 
realizing how and where I should next meet 
this madcap maid. 

"About nine o'clock we rolled out of the 
station, with a crowd of women and children 
and eight or ten* men cheering us, and began 
swinging away , toward the west. The track 
was new and in poor shape for fast running ; 
but Lyon let the 40 have her head, his dark 
eyes glistening as he watched the rails ahead. 
The country swept away to north and south 
in scarcely perceptible swells — an ocean of 
fading grass, yellow - green and dreamy in 
the tender heat. Vast masses of snow-pure 
clouds drifted in the sky, while before us, in 
the west, and curving toward the north-east, 
rose the lilac-coloured heaps of the Rockies. 
I didn't have much time to poetize, however, 
for I had my hands full in trying to keep the 
40 hot. 

" We got on swimmingly for perhaps 
twenty miles, then we struck a break — two 
rails had been pried loose from the ties and 
thrown by the right-of-way. - It looked bad. 
By the merest chance we escaped being 
ditched. On the north side of the track, and 
extending for miles toward the west, began a 
series of low foot-hills — so low they seemed 
much like the gentle swells of a lazy sea. 
Here and there through this undulating 
plateau sharp coulees had been cut by the 
summer waters of the distant mountains, 
though the stream-beds were now dry or 
carrying little fluid. Pope mounted to the 
top of a box-car and scanned the region with 
his glass, but no Indians or other marauders 


were in sight. Away to the south we all 
saw what appeared to be a black lake, a 
sweep of living liquid, miles in length, and 
stirring faintly like something moved by a 
gentle wind. 

" ' Buffaloes,' said Lyon, laconically, setting 
the injector-pumps to work and jumping 
to the ground. ' That sort of thing is as 
common as jack-rabbits ; but this tearing up 
of the track is different. Long Blanket and 
his gang must be over among the hills there 
somewhere.' He ended with some very 
strong language. 

" The conductor and two brakemen were 
ahead, inspecting the ground. Tracks of 
both men and horses were thick near the 
break in the track. Captain Pope promptly 
ordered a squad of soldiers forward ; the 
rails were brought back and put into place ; 
spikes and a maul were brought from the 
caboose and the rupture mended. Then we 
pulled forward again, but cautiously, Lyon 
watching the track ahead of us like a hawk, 
his hand on the throttle lever, while Pope 
and every boy in blue on the train stood on 
the alert for a whack at the unseen enemy. 
Soon we found another break ; a half-dozen 
rails had been pulled up. After we had 
repaired that we found another break, and 
another, and another, and time slipped away 
into the afternoon, and we were making no 
progress. Pope grew furious, and the balance 
of us — well, we were irritated, you may well 

" Pope came and rode in the engine. 
' There's a wooden trestle about three miles 
from here,' said Lyon. ' If they've burned 
that, then the game is up; we'll never get 
to the front. The trestle is beyond the big 
bend ahead there. Halloa ! there's some more 
rails pulled up.' 

" ' Long Blanket and his band are going 
west,' said the Captain. 'Evidently the 
chief's idea is to destroy so much track that 
it will take the company several days to make 
repairs; meanwhile he will try to connect 
with the Indians at the front and strike the 
construction men a heavy blow. I'm of half 
a mind to mount the boys and go after him. 
If the trestle is burned I will do so. Yellow 
Sky of the Shoshones is the chap who is 
leading the devilry, I fancy, out at the front.' 

" Now, as later information revealed, the 
men at the front were taking care of them- 
selves, and also of Yellow Sky, in fine style, 
while we, the rescuers, were in peril ; and 
affairs back at Ludder, where we thought 
everything quiet and secure, were alarming 
to the last degree. Within an hour after 
Original from 

7 6 


our leaving the division station Black Calf, 
with a band of 200 {minted braves, appeared 
south of the town, 

u All told, there were something like 
twenty-five men and boys and perhaps a 
hundred women and children in the village, 
All these in wild excitement hurried to the 
round-house, as being the only possible place 
of defence, and where they might be 
together. The husbands and grown up sons 
of many of the 
women were at 
the front, or out 
on construction 
trains, or work- 
ing at points 
along the line, 
The place was 
practically help- 

"The first 
thing that Black 
Calf and his 
warriors did was 
to hum the 
station and 
several of the 
houses; then 
they attacked 
the round- 
house. The 
men in the 
building had 
barricaded the 
?reat doors and 
cut holes 
through the 
board walls ; 
and as several 
of the men and 
women had guns 
and revolvers, 
the bucks and 
their leader were 
held in check, 
several of their 
number receiv- 
ing wounds and 
two being killed. 
The Indians 

poured bullets into the building's walls and 
doors, but beyond a few slight wounds among 
the men no casualties had occurred by noon* 
leaner, the round-house foreman, was a stern, 
gritty fellow, and he and the station agent 
took command. They put all the children 
and most of the women — for some of the 
latter fought side by side with the men - 
into the ash-pits, so that bullets coming 





through the walls or doors passed over their 
heads. Mrs. Lyon held her place with the 
fighters, while, at her command, Katie and 
the twins crouched in one of the pits. There 
were two engines in the house, one with 
steam up, 

(i A little after noon the redskins massed 
against the big doors, making a mad attempt 
to crush their way in. It was then that 
Laner did a remarkable thing. He suddenly 

jumped up into 
the cab of the 
53, the engine 
with steam on, 
and yelled to 
the men to open 
the doors before 
her. As the 
doors swuni; 
back he jerked 
the throttle wide 
open and leaped 
off. The engine 
swept the 
savnges out of 
the doorway, 
through the 
mass of bucks 
before the build- 
ing, shot across 
the turn - table 
and main track, 
and rolled over 
on her side 
200ft, away. 
Twenty odd 
Indians were 
killed and 
maimed by this 
The rest scat- 
te red in all 
directions, but 
returned, fearful, 
though furious. 
However, they 
kept at a safe 
distance from 
the front of the building after that. 

(t The men began to hope then that the 
bloodthirsty wretches might be beaten off for 
a time, at least during daylight. But when 
night should come, what then ? The buiUl^ 
ing would certainly be burned by the Indians, 
and the lives of all the whites be lost in 
massacre ! If there were only some means of 
getting word to the fort, or to Pope and his 

Original from 




men. Katie heard this, and five minutes 
later disappeared. 

iL Presently a boy in the wash-pit cried that 
someone was halloaing through the drain 
pipe. A man bent down and listened, then 
called Mrs. Lyon. ( Katie's in there/ he 
said, breathlessly, Mrs, Lyon sprang down 
in the pit, and with white face knelt at the 
end of the drain. ' I'm going to the fort,' 
came a shrill but far-away voice, * I'm going 
to wade down the creek to the house, I'll 
hide along under the bank I'm going to 
take White Bess, and see if I can't get help/ 

" Mrs, Lyon 
screamed for 
Katie to come 
back, but the 
voice that come 
through the drain 
only said, * Good- 
bye, ma ; don*t 
worry about me. 
There isn't an 
Indian pony on 
the plains that 
can catch White 
Bess. Fell Mr, 
leaner I'll bring 
the soldiers* 
Good - bye* ma, 1 
Mrs. Lyon wrung 
her hands and 
implored, but no 
answer came 
hack, Katie had 
slipped into the 
creek from the 
mouth of the 
drain and had 
started on her 

" For 300ft. or 
more she crept on her hands and knees 
close along under the bank, then, get^ 
ting somewhat out of the range of view, 
hurried in crouching posture on down the 
creek to their little home. Stooping low 
and keeping behind a fence, she reached 
the stable. Slipping a bridle on the white 
mare, and strapping a folded blanket on the 
animal's back, she turned her into the pasture. 
The animal went at once to the creek to 
drink, and Katie again crept along the fence 
and escaped from sight under the bank, A 
moment later she was leading White Bess 
down the bed of the shallow stream and 
away from the town. When the village lay 
a half-mile or more behind her she led the 



mare out through a clump of cotton woods 
on to dry ground and mounted. The big 
soil eyes of the animal were shining with 
eagerness ; the fine September air tasted 
nice, and the \vide t yellowish floor of the 
plain invited her feet. Katie leaned forward 
and patted the horse's arched neck- * We 
must bring the soldiers, Bessie,' she said, 
imploringly. l Don't fall, and don't never 
give up if they chase us, Mommy and little 
Dan and Jimmy may never see the light of 
morning if we fail. 5 The mare blinked her 
big eyes and chewed impatiently at the bit; 

the girl drew in 
a long, tremulous 
breath, cried out 
sharply, and they 
shot away across 
the plain. 

"To Katie the 
strong light and 
broad openness 
of the prairie 
were terrible. She 
looked back 
across her 
shoulder to the 
town, hearing 
yells and the 
crack of rifles 
and the noise of 
fighting. She rode 
straight south, 
selecting the 
lowest ground, 
and intending to 
turn south - west 
toward the fort 
when at a safe 
distance. She 
had progressed 
perhaps a mile 
when, looking 
back, she saw a party of Indians on horse- 
back shoot out from the edge of the town, 
ranging a little west to south, The girl's 
ruddy cheeks wnitened, and her brown 
fingers clutched the rein nervously* ' We've 
got to outrun them, Bess,' she cried ; 'we've 
get to do it ! * 

"The lithe, white mare, with her light 
burden, went like an antelope, breathing 
softly, and taking the ground with a long, 
sweeping, steady lope. The girl pulled on 
the bit a little. A Let them do their fast 
running first,' she said, looking back through 
her flying hair; 'well set the pace at the 
end. 1 ' 

" The tough Indian ponies, urged by quirt 
Original from 




and many a pealing yell, followed her like 
excited hounds, but keeping to the west of 
her in their course. Clearly the Indians pur- 
posed getting between the girl and the fort 
before attempting to run her down. The 
racers were probably four miles out from 
Ludder when Katie realized the intention of 
the painted fiends. She at once turned the 
mare straight toward the fort, and bending 
low over the animal's neck, urged her with a 
series of startling screams. The Indians, 
seeing the move, put their horses to top 
speed, and riding across the inside of the 
angle made by Katie's course, sought to cut 
her off. 

" But White Bess ran like a deer, and the 
Indians crossed her course an eighth of a 
mile to the rear. They fired no shots and 
ceased yelling, evidently not wishing to 
frighten or press the girl until they could get 
the advantage of position. They now pointed 
their course slightly to the south, plainly 
hoping to allay the girl's fears and gradually 
drive her north-west and away from the fort. 
Evidently they felt that a straight race after 
the fleet mare would end in their defeat. 

" In spite of her intention, Katie drew 
gradually toward the west in trying to keep 
away from her pursuers. She must have 
been twelve miles from Ludder, and White 
Bess was wet and breathing hard, when she 
struck the buffalo herd, the eastern end of 
that living lake which we had seen from the 
train when repairing the track. 

" It was a terrible blow to Katie's hopes, 
for she saw that she could not reach the fort 
unless she could get on the south side of the 
mighty herd, and such a course would throw 
her well-nigh into the arms of the savages. 
For a moment she pulled the mare up, look- 
ing wildly in all directions. For miles away 
to the south and west that hairy, awful sheet 
of dark forms stretched before her. Panting 
and horrified, she set the tired mare on the 
gallop again, riding straight toward the west. 
She must pass clear around the herd and 
come in to the fort from the south or west. 
Yelling wildly, the Indians came after her, 
the hardy ponies sticking to the chase like 

*' Katie's face grew drawn and white ; her 
red lips turned ashen and parched. She 
patted the neck of the dripping mare, praying 
her not to fail. * We must beat them, Bess ! 
Oh, we must ! We must ! ' she kept pleading. 

" That was about the hour in the afternoon 
when we of the train were repairing the last 
break before we should turn the bend beyond 
which lay the trestle of which Lyon had 

spoken. We had scarcely completed the 
repairs when we suddenly saw that the whole 
black mass of life stretching across the south- 
east was rolling toward us like a mighty wave. 

41 l Pull ahead, Lyon ! For God's sake, 
get on the trestle, if it is still standing ! ' 
shouted the conductor. Lyon gave the 40 
steam, and we whirled away toward the 

" I fancy that there was not a man on the 
train who did not feel his skin creep with 
fear and horror at sight of that resistless 
avalanche of animal life sweeping toward us. 
The dark billow was miles wide, and its 
rear was lost in clouds of dust A band of 
Indians, by Long Blanket's order, or in 
attempting to break through to join the chief, 
had stampeded the mightiest herd of bison 
ever seen upon the plains. The front of the 
herd was like a long, uneven wall of rushing 
water, from the lower edge of which gushed 
out a curling surf of dust, and beneath which 
all life that fell or was overtaken was drawn 
and trampled into fragments. Hundreds of 
thousands of hoofs beat the earth, and the 
roar from that rushing sea of flesh was like a 
strange new thunder. Coyotes, antelopes, 
and wild horses ran before it for their lives ; 
and at one point, near the extreme front of 
a wedge-shaped pack of riderless horses, we 
saw what was apparently a child on a grey 
horse, leaning forward over the animal's 
neck, and riding madly in the race with 
death. East of this astonishing figure we 
saw eight or ten Indians, on ponies and in 
war-paint, straining toward the north, with 
the hurling black mass not 500ft. behind 
them. Even while we looked we saw one of 
the ponies fall, and the Indian rider leap to 
his feet and run, only to be drawn under in 
a moment and disappear from sight. 

" In the thrill and horror of the prospect 
I did not regard my immediate surroundings, 
until we suddenly rushed upon the trestle and 
stopped. Then I saw that a large body of 
Indian horsemen were riding at a gallop west- 
ward on the north side of the track. Long 
Blanket and his braves, caught in their work 
of tearing up the track, were trying to get 
beyond the range of the stampede. 

"The trestle was some 50ft. in length, 
and apparently stretched across the almost 
dry bed of what had once been a small river. 
The stringers and ties at the highest point 
were not more than 10ft. or 12ft. above the 
ground. Upon these the engine and two 
cars stood, the balance of the train reaching 
out along the grade eastward. All along the 
train I heard shouting and stern orders as the 

by Google 

II II '.' I 1 1 




thunder of the stampede grew in volume and 
rolled toward us. I cannot now say what I 
thought or felt, the situation was so appalling. 
Whether the rushing sea of frightened animals 
would sweep the train away and go over it, 
leaving us all lifeless, or would break and 
eddy round us, no man could say, I was 
hanging out from the gangway, quivering in 
every nerve, while Lyon s face looked white 
and strange as he leaned from the window of 
the cab, his dry lips moving as he watched 
the grey horse and child coming toward us. 
suddenly a wild cry broke from him, and his 

that Katie was guiding the jaded marc 
straight toward us. In truth, her eyes had 
been fastened upon her father's smoking 
engine for more than a mile. 

"As I hung there, with my face toward 
the on-coming ocean of hairy forms, I felt 
Lyon's hands gripping my wrists, and heard 
him appealing to God for help. As all that 
horrible mass came thundering toward us I 
could see that Katie kept the lead* She 
was lying low and close over the mare's neck, 
one hand wound in the animal's rnane^ the 
other clutching the rein. Her hair was blown 

grimy fingers knotted involuntarily, * It's 
Katie, Joe ! My God, it's Katie ! ' he cried. 

■' A kind of fire swept through me at that, 
such a leap of the pulses as I had never felt 
before* 1 sprang down upon the ends of the 
ties, and reached my hands toward her, 
shouting in a sort of frenzy ; then, suddenly, 
a> by inspiration, the only possible course of 
action was revealed to me. I slipped down 
between the outer ends of ,the ties and hung 
full length from the outside stringer. I saw 

by LiOOglC 

back, and her face looked small and white. 
The mare looked slim and wet and strange. 
Her nose was stretched out, her eyes were 
glassy and red, her lips scarlet and open. At 
her heels the pack of wild horses came gallop- 
ing, with manes blowing and heads out- 
stretched ; behind them that rushing wall of 
frenzied buffalo. The panting of the strange 
multitude of unreasoning brutes was horrify- 
ing, rising like an indescribable gasp through 
the thunder of their hoofs. 
Original from 




" When the front of the stampede was 
perhaps 500ft. away I saw a stream of fire 
leap out from every car along the train, the 
howitzers crashed, and again the carbines 
roared. Instantly the wave of buffaloes 
seemed to double under at the base, then 
roll into the air like a kind of black and 
indescribable billow. In that maze of tumbl- 
ing forms I saw the Indians who had chased 
poor Katie sink, crushed by bullets and 
swallowed up in the remorseless mass. I saw 
.this with a glance, for the white, upturned face 
of Katie was not 50ft. away, and both Lyon 
and myself were shouting to her to stand 
up and jump. It was an awful moment. 
I saw it all as vivid as lightning, yet somehow 
it had the colour of a dream. In Katie's 
eyes I could see terror mingled with resolu- 
tion as she got to her feet on the horse's back. 
An instant she wavered, then straightened 
up, and as the panting mare shot under us 
she jumped. For a second I saw her pale 
face and wide-open eyes flying toward me 
through the air, then her arms shut about 
my pendent body with a shock. My arms 
seemed torn from their sockets by the blow, 
but Lyon was holding my wrists like a vice. 
In a moment he loosened his grip and, 
bending low, caught the girl by the arms and 
drew her up. By his aid I then scrambled 
back upon the ties. 

" All about us roared a living storm. Dust 
covered the scene like battle smoke. Through 
it we saw the incessant flashing of carbines 
along the train ; east and west a vague brown 
torrent of brutes poured across the track. 
Under us the press and struggle of hulking 
forms choked the pass and shook the bridge. 
When the air cleared we saw that the work 
of the soldiers had divided the mighty pack ; 
it was flowing north and northwest in two 
dark streams. Before us were swaths of 
slain bison ; piles of the bodies lay against 
the train, and somewhere in that appalling 
slaughter lay Katie's pursuers. 

"Weak and trembling, I climbed up into 
the engine-cab. Lyon sat on the floor, and 
across his lap lay Katie, limp and panting. 
' Mommy — little Dan and Jim — we must go 
back ! ' she was gasping. * All the folks are 
in the round-house — the Indians are there ! 
I was going to the fort for help ! ' 

41 Lyon placed her on the fireman's cushion, 
and jumped to the reversing-lever and threw 
it over, opened the throttle, and whistled 
4 Off brakes.' There was a clanking of 

couplings, and the train started eastward. In 
a few minutes Pope and the conductor came 
scrambling over the foot of the tender. 

" € Where are you going ? ' they demanded. 

" * To save my wife and babies,' said Lyon. 
1 Black Calf and his brutes are at Ludder ; 
they've got the folks shut up in the round- 
house ; there'll be a massacre ! ' 

" ' That's where we are needed, then,' 
cried Pope, and the conductor's whitening 
lips said * Yes,' for his own loved ones were 
at Ludder. 

" Lyon pushed the 40 hard, and at the end 
of an hour the military train dashed into the 
division station. At sight of us Black Calf's 
forces broke and fled, followed and stung by 
showers of bullets. The soldiers began un- 
loading their horses at once and mounting 
for the chase. The overjoyed prisoners 
poured out from the great doors of the 
engine-house, and fairly overwhelmed us in 
their gratitude. Mrs. Lyon came running 
toward the 40 to tell Lyon that Katie had 
probably perished, when, to her amaze- 
ment and joy, her husband jumped to the 
ground with Katie in his arms. 

" Well, what happened would be difficult 
to describe. I couldn't see much of it, for, 
tough chap though I was, I couldn't see very 
plainly for the tears that filled my eyes. I 
only know that Katie had a reception fit for 
a princess. 

" What became of White Bess ? Well, sir, 
she was found next morning standing, feeble 
and badly used up, in a gully about two 
miles north of the trestle ; but we brought 
her back and turned her into Lyon's 
pasture, and a few weeks afterward I saw 
the animal and the children again playing 
4 circus.' 

" As for the Indians, Major Holme struck 
Yellow Sky at the front and beat off his 
followers and took the old chief prisoner, 
while Pope chased Long Blanket and Black 
Calf into the north-western hills and gave 
them a fine drubbing." 

" What became of Katie, the heroic little 
girl?" I asked. 

Perth smiled contentedly. " Well," he 
said, " if you'll come over to the house and 
take dinner with me, you will meet her. 
We've been married a good many years and 
her hair is grey ; but I think you will find 
her about the sunniest and most motherly 
woman that ever made a poor railroader feel 
equal to a millionaire." 

by Google 

Original from 

Peculiar Weddings, 

By Albert H. Broadwfll. 

HE first wedding which we 
shall describe owes its pecu- 
liarity to the fact that the ago 
of the bridegroom formed a 
record. Colonel Overton, of 
St Joseph^ who was just a 
hundred years of age, was married some 
time ago to a young lady of seventy-seven. 
As may be imagined, there was a crowd to 
set* the ceremony, which was performed at 
the First Methodist Episcopal Church of 
St. Joseph f by Dr. C H. Stocking. 

spectacles. He uses them now occasionally, 
but not always, even when reading* He never 
chewed tobacco or smoked, never drank a 
drop of liquor or took a dose of medicine in 
his liTe ! He is capable of doing a good 
day's work if necessary, but as he has always 
lived frugally and saved his money he is not 
obliged to do so now. Cupid loves a soldier, 
as everybody knows, and Colonel Overton is 
a veteran of three wars, Cupid has favoured 
him more than once. He first married at 
thirty- five, and his second wife died in St. 

Promt a F'hotogrtiph. 

Colonel Overton was born in the oil region 
of Pennsylvania. He has lived in many States 
and followed many professions. In his youth 
he was a portrait painter, at a time when 
such artists were scarce in this country and 
when photography had not been developed 
to its present perfection. He was twenty-six 
years a resident of Arkansas t and has lived 
only two years in St. Joseph. He is a man of 
slight build, fairly erect, and walks vigorously 
with the help of a cant\ He has full white 
chin-whiskers and hair which, though per- 
fectly white, shows no sign of baldness. 

Until a short time ago he had never worn 
v ol . „,.-„. 

From a PhuU^rapK, 

Joseph at the age of seventy -six. He is 
the father of ten children, seven of whom are 
living. His bride has also had a matrimonial 
experience. She was married in early youth, 
and her first husband died only a few years 

In contrast to this happy union at so 
unusual an age it may be interesting to refer 
here to the most gruesome marriage cele- 
bration that has ever taken place. This 
was performed at the home of Herr William 
Reidl, Magdeburg, Germany. It was the 
golden wedding anniversary of Herr Reidl, 
and at theganse~ iffVftrH^* celebrated the 




siUer wedding of his only 
The elder Reidl was chief 

son Frederick, 
executioner of 

the domains of Kaiser Wilhelm, while his son 

every kingdom and principality in the 
German Empire was represented. Alto- 
gether, there were present nearly three 

Frum a Pk*± 

Frederick also figured as a public executioner 
of Ion™ service. The eldest son of the latter 
is a soldier in the German Army, but his 
father declares that as soon as he is dis 
charged he will secure him a place where his 
work will be of exactly the same nature as his 
own. Not only are both William Reidl and his 


I Jfi A OorntH. Tombndg*. 

hundred men whose occupation was the 
execution of criminals. Mr + Rddl very natu- 
rally has an aversion to being photographed ; 
he does not care to be recognised by the 
multitude in his official capacity, otherwise we 
should have reproduced his photograph here. 
The village of East Peckham, Kent, was 

ftflm ffl Photo, bg\ 

THE Tfl ACTION -ENGINE W&DX)JNG~-* A MALT FOR KfcKkP^HMt NTS. I Mr. A- CtorrwW, Tonbridge. 

son public executioners, but there was not a 
single man invited to participate in the event 
who was not also an executioner. Nearly 

Digitized byC-n 

recently the scene of a very novel and 
interesting wedding procession, when there 
were substituted- ifoL.lhe ordinary horsed 




vehicles in use on such occasions a truck 
drawn by a traction engine and an escort of 
motor-cars. The wedding party proceeded 
from the bride's residence to the church in 
the truck, which, with the engine, was gaily 
decorated with flags, flowers, and evergreens. 
At the conclusion of the ceremony the 
newly-married couple and their friends drove 
in procession through roads lined with 
spectators to a neighbouring village, where 

jumped out of the car. The balloon 
had risen then about 100ft*, and, as the 
newly-wedded wife fell into the river, she was 
nearly drowned, but happily escaped with a 
severe fright This plan is accordingly not 
to be recommended to candidates for matri- 
monial honours. 

Another curious wedding is one connected 
with a " bicycle made for two, 1 ' perhaps better 
known as a " sociable*" The principal 



an open-air wedding breakfast awaited them. 
Both bridegroom and bride are enthusiastic 
auto-carists. The photographs here repro- 
duced were taken and kindly lent by Mr, 
A. Cornell, of Ton bridge. 

It is a pity that no photograph was 
secured of an American wedding which took 
place not long ago, and which, though cer- 
tainly not deserving of imitation, has all the 
interest of eccentricity. A couple agreed 
to be married in the car of a balloon, and 
after the knot was tied the balloon was 
allowed to ascend for a honeymoon trip. 
The bride, however, became alarmed, ( and 

Digitized by GOOQIC 

actors in this interesting function were two 
well-known members of the Italian com- 
munity in London, Mr. Achille Gasperi and 
Miss Emily Pappacena, who were united in 
wedlock at the French Catholic church of 
Notre Dame, in Leicester Street. Directly 
after the ceremony a procession of consider- 
able size was formed, consisting mainly of 
cyclists of both sexes. On their way to the 
Comedy R e s t a u ra n t to whose pr o pr i eto r 
we are indebted for the loan of the accom- 
panying photo,- the couple created a great 
stir along the route from tho church to the 

restaurant, ^ . 

Original from 


8 4 


We have next to record a very extra- 
ordinary ceremony— the wedding of two 
people in a lions' cage, We are glad that so 
successful a photograph was taken, because 
it proves, what might otherwise have been 
doubted, the absolute authenticity of this 
extraordinary feat, 

On the evening of November 4th Miss 
Charlotte Wiberg, of Boston, and Mr. Arthur 
St. Andrassy> of 
Perth, Am boy, 
NJ,, were mar- 
ried by the Rev, 
George Reader, 
of Ohio, in the 
lions' cage at the 
Zoo* The clergy- 
man stood out- 
side the cage and 
tied the nuptial 
knot, while the 
bride and groom 
were locked in- 
side the cage 
with Cleopatra 
and C^sar, the 
two biggest and 
ugliest lions of 
the Boston Zoo- 
logical Society. 
The marriage 
was widely ad- 
vertised by the 
Press agent in 
whose fertile 
brain the idea of 
the marriage in 
the lions' cage 
Nearly 5,000 
p e o p 1 l; paid 
twenty-five cents 
apiece to witness 
the novel proceeding. Many more re- 
mained outside the building in the hope 
of getting a glimpse of the young couple 
who had bearded the lions in their den. 
At nine o'clock the big organ of the Zoo 
pealed forth a wedding march. A surpliced 
choir of twenty boys sang a processional 
hymn, and the bride and groom moved 
towards 1 he lions' cage. The immense 
audience that had gathered had angered the 
lions, and they looked anything but pleasant 
Four attendants armed with sharp-pointed 
iron bars took their places at the four 
corners of the cage. The lion-keeper 
entered the cage followed by the bridal 

MH. AND MRS. ST. ANDKASSV, WHO WKhtt: M ,\Yi f.; 1 I L ' ]tf A LIONS* fAUi . 

From a Photo, by Kltner Chicktrina. ftorfcm 

by Google 

couple. The keeper closed the steel bar 
door after them with a click and drove the 
lions back into their corners, while the 
bride and groom advanced to the centre of 
the cage feeing the minister. The lions 
gave a frenzied roar and walked restlessly 
about, casting their evil eyes now upon the 
crowd on the outside and then upon the 
bridal pair. The keeper quieted the lions 

somewhat, and 
then the wed- 
ding ceremony 

Without the 
least sign of 
fear, or even 
nervousness, the 
couple answered 
the usual ques- 
tions of the 
clergyman in a 
clear and dis- 
tinct voice. In 
five minutes the 
ceremony was 
ended, and then 
everybody was 
cautioned to 
remain perfectly 
still while a 
flashlight photo- 
graph, which we 
reproduce, was 
taken. Every- 
thing worked 
with clock - like 
regularity, but, 
this, both young 
people heaved a 
heavy sigh of 
relief when the 
door of the cage 
was opened and 
they walked out on a platform for the purpose 
of receiving the congratulations of those who 
had gathered to see the unusual marriage. 
There were many wedding presents for the 
newly married pair, and the Boston Zoological 
Society presented them with a complete set 
of silver ware, 

When Mr. and Mrs. St. Andrassy left for 
home that night they were evidently as happy 
a couple as ever left on a wedding tour. Both 
said that they scarcely gave the lions a thought 
while in the cage. There was so much 
excitement outside, they added, that their 
minds were directed to the crowd rather 
than to the lions. Mr, and Mrs. St 
Original from 



Andrassy had been sweethearts fur some approve of such sensational marriage cere- 
time, and were glad of the opportunity monies, however, as the Rev. Mr + Reader, 
given them to become man and wife, the officiating clergy man, who was a student 
even though it had to be in a cage of at Boston University, was expelled a day or 

Prtm a Ptoto. hi] 


lions. They answered an advertisement in- 
serted by the Zoo management, calling for a 
couple that would be willing to be married in 
this sensational manner. They were selected 
out of a number of other applicants because 
of their good looks and coolness of character 
in comparison with the others who applied. 
Boston theologians evidently do not 

two afterwards by the Dean of the school for 
conduct unbecoming a minister of the Gospel, 
We shall be pleased to hear of other 
instances of peculiar weddings that our 
readers may have witnessed or heard of, 
especially if accompanied by pictures, similar 
to those which have been dealt with in 
this article. 

by Google 

Original from 


By John Arthur Harry. 



S eight bells in the afternoon 
watch struck a hundred feet 
below him, a seaman who had 
just finished putting some 
tarred parcelling in the wake 
of the main-royal backstay 
where it touches the topmast-crosstree out- 
rigger took a look around before descending 
from his perch. 

It is a habit constant and engrained in the 
race — this long, steady stare around the rim 
of the horizon at irregular intervals when 
aloft. There are more surprises at sea than 
ever came out of Africa ; and no one knows 
what minute the terrible and mysterious 
element may choose for springing a speci- 
men of them upon her sons. Therefore 
they are incessantly on the look-out, and 
more especially when engaged high in air 
amongst the intricate combination of running 
and standing gear, spars and canvas, that 
crown the hull of a sailer. 

The Minerva at this time was braced up 
against a pretty stiff south-easter which had 
caught her in the teeth whilst stretching over 
from mid- Atlantic to round the Cape of Storms 
on her passage to New Zealand. Her upper 
topgallant sails and royals were stowed ; thus 
the seaman had a clear field within his 
vision. It was a dull day, with short 
intervals of brightness in the sky here and 
there that lit the ocean in confusing patches, 

Digitized by Gi 

leaving the rest lead-coloured. Suddenly the 
man, staring under the flat of his hand, stood 
up and stretched his head eagerly forward, 
as he imagined he caught sight of some 
small white object far away on the port bow. 
Hut the glimpse was momentary and elusive, 
leaving him very doubtful. At sea, how- 
ever, doubt a j ore often perhaps than elsewhere 
spells disaster to somebody. And though 
it was by this time the man's watch below, 
taking the marline-spike from around his neck 
and clove-hitching its lanyard to a backstay, 
he made his way on to the upper topgallant- 
yard, and thence, after a brief, dissatisfied 
stare, higher still to the lofty royal. Standing 
here with one arm round the mast, he once 
more strained his eyes over the tossing waste 
of waters wishing to make sure. And at 
last, in a patch of momentarily bright sea, 
he saw the thing he was looking for hove up 
—a white chip that, to any but a sailor's 
glance, would have meant only one of the 
million crests of the million breaking waves 
that washed the sky on every side. 

Bending down, and turning his face aft, he 
roared, " Deck ahoy ! " 

"Aye, aye," shouted back a man who 
paced the clipper's poop to windward, pausing 
and looking aloft. 

" Boat about four points on the port bow, 
sir ! " sang out the sailor. Going to the tail 
the other stared. But unable to see anything 
he ascended the mizzen rigging with a glass 
under his arm. Not, however,, until he 
Original from 




reached the top did he pick up the object 
tossing helplessly amidst the choppy seas. 
Then, as he waved his hand to the helms- 
man, the Minerva fell off before the wind. 
" Steady ! " And as the ship's bows came 
slowly round towards the boat the man at 
the main, with a human life to his credit, 
clawed down the rigging and went below. 

As the Minerva approached the little 
derelict was seen to be a ship's quarter-boat. 
The mast was stepped ; and at first sight she 
contained nobody. 

" There's something hanging over the 
side ! " exclaimed a sharp-sighted passenger. 

" Only a fender," replied a sailor. 

" A man's arm, by heavens ! " exclaimed 
the mate, taking his eye fronl the glass. 
" Shall we lower our gig, sir ? " 

14 Of course ! " said the captain ; " only, I'm 
afraid we're late. Starboard braces there, 
and back your fore-yards, Mr. Ismay ! " 

The boat was some fifty yards away, a 
most pathetic picture with that naked brown 
arm and hand showing against the white 
paintwork, and at intervals springing out with 
a sort of beckoning motion when she gave an 
extra pitch that indescribably accentuated 
the sad meaning of the thing. And at such 
times to the staring crowd on the ship there 
seemed to be at the bottom of her a confused 
heap of men and sailcloth. 

Sure enough, as the gig took hold and 
towed the other boat to the Minerva's hastily 
lowered gangway, it was seen that, besides 
the one to whom the arm belonged, huddled 
up in all sorts of positions amongst the folds 
of a big sail were four more bodies. A 
terrifying and pitiful spectacle indeed, and 
one that caused an indefinable, curious sort 
of sound, half groan, half curse, to rise from 
the Afinerva's crew as they clustered in the 
main rigging and at the head of the gangway, 
whilst the bodies were carried up and laid in 
a row on the quarter-deck. 

Steam happening to be on that day in the 
donkey-engine, the boat, a fine new one, was 
soon whipped on to the main hatch ; and 
before the doctor (a passenger) had finished 
his examination the Minerva had braced her 
yards up again and was lying as near her 
course as she could get. 

Four of the men were quite dead — had 
been so for days. But in the fifth — the one 
whose hand had hung over the boat — a 
spark of life still lingered. Such a feeble 
spark, that it took a fortnight ere it burned 
steadily enough to allow of his coming on 
deck. A tall, thin skeleton of a man, with 
grey hair and beard, and sunken eyes and 

Digitized by LiOOglC 

hollow cheeks, and limbs that trembled with 
his voice when he spoke. 

Also suffering had apparently numbed the 
cells of memory, and his mind, so far as con- 
cerned the past, was an utter blank. He 
knew neither his own name norjhe name of 
the ship the boat belonged to,^nor anything 
that had happened to him in the past— near 
or distant. God's finger had touched his 
brain, wiping it clean, as a schoolboy sponges 
an hour's work off his slate. Nor was there 
any clue to the names or belongings of him- 
self or those dead men with him. The 
boat's stern bore no sign of ship or port, and 
her furniture of oars, mast, sail, etc., told 
nothing whatever. As for any remnants of 
provisions or water there were none. Around 
his neck, attached to a chain, his rescuers 
had found a gold locket containing the 
portrait of a handsome woman, apparently of 
about seven or eight and twenty, an age that, 
spite of his grey hairs, the doctor said the 
man himself had barely passed. But of the 
picture the man could give no more account 
than of aught else. That he was a sailor 
was evident by his very first glance aloft 
and around him, and as evidently, from the 
quality of the serge clothes and the under- 
wear found upon him, an officer. The latter 
was all carefully marked with the letters 
"E. S." — drawers, socks, and singlet alike. 
The bodies of the others had been dressed 
in the usual nondescript rig of merchant 
Jack all the world over, but mostly in heavy, 
cold - weather stuff. Thus it was argued 
that the disaster might very probably have 
occurred amongst the ice ; and, from the 
utter lack of preparation in the boat, very 

As the days went by and the man returned 
slowly to health and strength it soon became 
apparent that, if one side of the slate had 
been wiped clean, there were still odd 
patches left on the other. 

But these, strange to say, were connected 
solely with the details of his profession. Nor 
did this knowledge return all at once, but by 
degrees, and on occasion given. 

For instance, one night watching the mate 
working out calculations connected with 
correcting the chronometers by a lunar obser- 
vation, just taken, he suddenly remarked, 
" I can show you a much simpler formula, 
if you'll allow me." And then and there, 
greatly to the mate's surprise, he did so. 

" Now, surely," said the latter, " if you can 
recollect a thing like that, learned probably 
years ago, you can remember matters that 
have happened quite lately ? " 




HAD PuUNl> A tiOLU l-DCKET.' 1 

Hut the other only shook his head de- 
spondently. Still the doctor had great hopes 
of his patient eventually recovering. And 
the latter tried hard to help him by eagerly 
adopting every suggestion, But all to no 
purpose. The most abstruse problems in 
scientific navigation he presently solved with 
scarcely an effort. He could not for the life 
of him, however, remember his own name, 
or a solitary particular connected with his 
past life. 

And this question of a name was one that 
puzzled his friends. A man may not travel 
nameless through the world, no matter how 
heavily misfortune has laid her hand upon 

Now, rather curiously, the name of the 
sailor who first discovered the boat happened 
to be Emerant Spurrell — his initials, there- 
fore, corresponding to those on the rescued 
man's clothes, And someone, noting this, 
suggested^ half in fun, that the rescued one 
might do worse than borrow the name of the 
person to whom, without a doubt, he was 
indebted for his life. This coming to 
Spurrell 's ears — indeed, he happened to be 
at the w T heel when it was mooted — he at 
once made a formal offer. 

" With all the pleasure in life, sir," said 
he. " I can easy get another. Atr, anyhow, 
it's only a purser's name. I've had it three 



v'y'ges now. Used to 
belong to a shipmate o' 
mine— a Bluenose chap 
from Halifax, Novy 
Scotia. He fell off the 
foretaups'l - yard o' the 
old Twttd and broke 
his neck. We was 
chums, so I took it ' Hin 
Memorium,' as it says on 
the gravestones ashore," 
Thus, amidst some 
laughter and joking, and 
the castaway himself 
proving quite willing to 
appropriate this sort of 
ownerless name, none 
the less so that it was 
by no means a common 
one, he became forth- 
with Mr. Spurrell. And 
in honour of the 
occasion jolly old Cap- 
tain Britton opened 
champagne in the saloon 
and made a little 
festivity, and all the 
people did their best to 
cheer up the unfortunate. And presently, 
when the latter rose from his seat to thank 
them, his voice for awhile failed, and he stood 
there silent, gazing at them, his features work- 
ing with emotion. A tall, spare, yet well- 
sha[>ed figure, clean-shaven now but for a 
thick white moustache, and bearing a look 
of premature age in the lined and wrinkled 
face, upon which with merciless claws 
the sea had set her sign - manual, 
strangely contradicted by the fire and energy 
that shone in the dark blue eyes* And 
although his close-cropped hair was grizzled, 
and the broad shoulders bowed, taken by and 
large, the newly-christened was even yet a 
decidedly handsome man, as standing there 
he, presently finding his voice, thanked the 
people in a few well-chosen words for all 
their kindness, 

"A smart, fine> strapping young fellow of 
twenty-eight or thirty at the out side, n whis- 
pered the doctor to the captain. "That's 
what he was a few weeks ago. Take my 
word for it — incredible as it seems to you 

11 Good Lord ! ?p groaned the other, com- 
passionately. 4t It's terrible ! And a passed 
master too, or I'll eat my hat I " he added, 
somewhat consequentially, and in a tone 
signifying that the fact made the matter 
infinitely worse. 

Original from 




" The trouble is to know what to do for 
him," continued the doctor. " If it was in 
the old days with a crowd of passengers, why, 
we could have raised a thumping sub. But 
there's only five of us on the Minerva. Til 
give a tenner with pleasure. But even if 
everybody goes level, what is it ? " 

" That's so," replied the skipper, shaking 
his head. " Poor chap ! poor chap ! I 
caught him yesterday looking at that picture 
in the locket, and the striving agony of his 
face made my heart ache. But he's plucky 
with it and keeps his torture well under, 
doesn't he? Look at him laughing and 
chatting so pleasantly now." 

" Aye," said the doctor, " and that bears 
out what I say about his age. It would have 
either killed an older man or sent him raving 
mad. But this one will recover some day, I 
believe. And quite suddenly, perhaps — all 
in a minute. It may be years, though, ere 
the memory of wife, or children, or sweet- 
heart, and his lost ship and all the hard, 
bitter time of his last voyage returns to him, 
and when it does it may possibly kill him." 

" D'ye think he'd know his wife, or — or — 
any of his friends, if he could see them now?" 
whispered the skipper. 

" I'm certain he wouldn't," replied the 
other, decisively. " It'll take more than a once 
familiar face or even a voice to penetrate 
the darkness. Possibly if, now, we could 
transport him in sleep back to the boat again 
amongst his dead companions, the sudden 
shock when he awoke might effect a cure. 
On the other hand, it might prove fatal." 

" And of course he's changed out of all 
knowledge," said the captain. 

" Aye," replied the doctor ; " his own 
mother wouldn't know him. We ought to 
have taken a photo, when we got him first. 
And even then it would have been late. 
Since that time the change has gone on 
gradually. It has stopped now. Only age 
will make further alteration ; and most likely 
for the better." 

" Well, well," said the skipper, " we must 
see what can be done. Ismay is leaving us 
at Adelaide to get married and settle ashore. 
If this chap had a ticket he should have the 
berth at once. I must have a talk with the 
Marine Board. Surely they'll make allow- 
ances in such an extraordinary case." 



It presently happened that just after rounding 

the Cape of Good Hope the chief officer of 

the Minerva, the Mr. Ismay alluded to, had 
Vol xxi.— 12. 

Digitized by LiOOQlC 

the misfortune to break his leg. Captain 
Britton at once asked Spurrell to take the 
vacant place. And the latter accepted 
eagerly, fulfilling its duties with that quiet 
precision born solely of intimate knowledge. 
Nor, although realizing his terrible position 
only too well, did he allow his mind to dwell 
upon it more than possible. Still in lonely 
middle watches with the Roaring Forties 
booming aloft against the rigid hollows 
of the top-sails, and shrilling amongst the 
maze of rope and wire, whilst behind 
them thundered the huge combers of the 
Southern Ocean, at times the helmsmen 
would notice their officer suddenly stop in 
his fore and aft tramp and with a wild 
gesture of dismay throw up his arms and lift 
a white, despairing face skyward. But even 
as weather-wheel was muttering sympatheti- 
cally to lee one — " Poor chap ! he's a-tryin' 
to get it back again and can't," the mate 
would bring himself in hand once more and 
resume his interrupted pacing. As the doctor 
said, a wonderfully brave and strong-minded 
man must this be, cast up suddenly, as it 
were, naked, bewildered, and with no more 
Past than a new-born babe to begin the world 
afresh ! — nor possessing aught except the 
professional instinct that had so curiously 
survived the shock to which things of so 
much more import had succumbed. 

Off St. Paul's, in a terrific gale, the Minerva 
carried away her fore-topmast. During the 
blow, the captain being unwell, the acting 
mate had full charge of the ship, working her 
with a skill and care beyond praise. Then, 
when the weather moderated, his manage- 
ment of the ticklish job of sending down the 
spars on the fore and getting a new topmast 
in its place —a matter requiring in a sea- 
way the utmost practical skill— more than 
satisfied Captain Britton that in this come- 
by-chance officer he had picked up a treasure, 

" Ismay's a good man," remarked the 
skipper to the doctor, "and I've no fault to 
find with him. But, compared to the other, 
he's like a turnip-lantern to an electric light. 
Ticket or no ticket, a seaman of Spurrell's 
sort sha'n't want a berth as long as I've got a 
say in the Blue Star Line. I reckon myself 
a fair practical hand, but damme, doctor, 
if I think I could have turned out such a 
ship-shape job of that foremast in the 
time ! " 

" His way with the men is capital, too," 

replied the other. "I notice they simply 

jump like monkeys at his least order. Nor 

do I ever hear him swear. Nobody will be 

Original from 




more pleased than myself, captain, if you 
can secure the billet for him. I'm sure you'll 
never regret it. I have some friends at court 
over yonder, and I'm going to do all I can. 
I've taken a great fancy to the fellow, apart 
from the natural pity and sympathy we must 
all feel for the terrible blow he has suffered 
and is bearing up so stoutly and bravely 

And both captain and doctor, being men 

of action, when 

presently the 
Minerva dropped 
her anchor at the 
Semaphore, and 
later towed up the 
river to Port 
Adelaide, they lost 
no time in setting 
things going. 

Australians as a 
people are perhaps 
the most helpful 
and sympathetic 
of all, not only in 
cases of public 
distress, but in 
individual ones as 
well Their news- 
paper s, too, are 
ever ready to aid 
freely in any good 
cause, Thus, 
some of them, 
after publishing 
Spurrell's story, 
opened a subscrip- 
tion list for him 
which found many 
contributors. Also 
the authorities, 
although at first 
demurring, finally 
gave way to public 

opinion and vice -regal suggestion and 
consented to allow the strangely afflicted 
and yet thoroughly capable man, if he 
could, to pass at once through the grades of 
second mate, chief, and master The exami- 
nation lasted three days, and at the finish the 
members of the Marine Board declared them- 
selves more than satisfied with the results, and 
complimented Spurrell and handed him the 
cert iii ante without which all his proficiency 
would have been useless. 

This success cheered him as perhaps 
nothing else could have done. A livelihood 
was now, at least to some ex ten t, assured. 
After all, the sea had not robbed him of 

Digitized by G* 


everything. Meanwhile, his friends were 
still busy on his behalf; but only presently to 
realize that their efforts were quite hopeless. 
What can one do when there is absolutely 
nothing to go upon— not the slightest clue? 
Each year there are scores of missing ships 
gazetted ; but without name, or date, or 
departure, it is hard to identify any particular 
one whose very officer himself is unable to 
assist you in the slightest degree, and who if 

he saw his own 
name in print 
would not recog- 
nise it So, after 
awhile, the matter 
dropped, and the 
new man, as he 
felt himself to be, 
with for a Past 
a perpetual puzzle, 
and a Future that 
promised little but 
emptiness, became 
gradually resigned 
as well as he mi^ht 
to dree his weird. 
But even to his 
iron will the 
struggle at times 
to avoid despair 
was a terrible one. 
Had he unfortu- 
nately been a man 
of leisure, and able 
to brood over his 
troubles, he would 
probably have 
killed himself. 
Two things saved 
him : the constant 
demanded by his 
post, and the 
ability to com- 
mand sleep at any moment— the latter a 
gift not measurable by any money value. 
And to outsiders the new chief mate of the 
crack clipper appeared simply as a grave, 
courteous, somewhat reserved, gentlemanly 
man, whose lined, careworn face and grey 
hairs contrasted strangely with his clear eye 
and light step. 

Between himself and his captain existed a 
ver) r sincere regard, for Spurrell knew that 
had he by ill chance fallen into different 
hands his fate might have been a thousand 
times worse. Therefore he was grateful. 
And a first officer who feels that way can 
his superior a vast deal of trouble. 
Original from 





Also on his side the old skipper had 
the highest admiration for the skill and 
expertness that the other showed in 
his profession. So the pair agreed together 
very well indeed. Thus, when the 
Minerva arrived in London, Captain Britton 
represented his mate's case in such wise to 
the owners as induced them to confirm the 
latter's appointment. Of course the story 
had preceded him. Nowadays a few curt 
words by cable, flashing over continents and 
under oceans, deal with a case like SpurrelPs 
and make the news world wide. So a 
score of women, whose husbands in some 
capacity or other were " missing at Lloyd's," 
interviewed the man — all ignoring details, and 
each hoping he might be hers. Imagine his 
distress at such an ordeal, and the tension 
on his strung nerves as he glanced at each 
fresh arrival and compared the face with 
those other features indelibly burned on his 
brain, only to meet the blank stare of mutual 

" God only knows whether it's my wife's 
picture or not ! " he exclaimed once, pitifully, 
to the captain. " You have all taken for 
granted that such is the case. It may be a 
sister's or a sweetheart's for aught I can tell. 
What an existence is mine ! " he continued, 
bitterly ; " nameless, without kith or kin, ever 
vainly groping in the blackness of a lost past 
teeming with vague fancies that appear only 
to vanish as soon as formed ! God help me, 
sir, I sometimes wish that you had left me to 
perish in the boat along with those others ! " 
And the mate bowed his head on his arms 
in an attitude of despair. 

" Nonsense," replied the other, speaking 
over a lump in his throat, for it was rare 
indeed that the self-contained, calm, grave 
chief gave way to such an extent. " Don't 
say that. God in His own good time will 
clear away the raffle and coil down all the 
gear in its proper place. I was beginning to 
hope that you had made your mind up to 
wait patiently. And I have an idea," went 
on the old man, eagerly. " Listen. We'll 
get hundreds of photographed copies of the 
one in the locket and with a brief request 
printed on the back of each, and send them 
all over the country to all the police-stations — 
they're the likeliest places— and see if we can't 
hear something of the original. She'll hardly 
have changed much in the time, anyhow." 

This rather crude notion of the cap- 
tain's was accordingly carried out, but 
with the only effect of accentuating the 
former worry and distress. Replies and 
photographs arrived in heaps from most of 

by K: 



the seaports of the United Kingdom, the 
former, as often as not, having nothing at all 
to do with the matter in hand ; the latter as 
much resembling the copy as, to quote the 
incensed skipper, "a purser's shirt on a 
handspike resembled a main-topsail." Also 
many of the women who had obtained a 
picture, and, by a curious optic delusion, 
recognised their own features therein, came 
in person to Spurrell's lodgings, and when 
rejected, still unconvinced, claimed travel- 
ling expenses on a high scale. The affair 
had a comical side, but it struck neither 
Captain Britton nor his mate in that aspect, 
and the pair were only too glad when the 
Minerva was once more bowling down the 
English Channel outward bound. 

Two more years went by, and Captain 
Britton, resigning to take the billet of ships' 
husband, and bringing all the weight of his 
influence to bear on the company he had 
served so long and so well, was enabled to 
secure for Spurrell the vacant post of master 
of the Blue Star liner. 

In these latter days of tremendous com- 
petition, and freights narrowed to the merest 
selvage of profit, speed, in the case of the 
"sailer" especially, is the only way to spell 
profit. And Spurrell, well knowing this, 
and favoured by a run of luck, made such 
passages in the Minerva as broke every 
record, and also brought grist to her owners' 
mill. Any fool can " crack on " ; but it takes 
a wise man to know when his ship is doing a 
fair thing and is unable to stand another 
yard of canvas. 

Spurrell possessed this gift in a very 
eminent degree, and if he took in sail it was 
to increase speed — paradoxical as this may 
seem to the uninitiated— not to slacken it. 
Many a man carries his foresail until it does 
more harm than good, when, if stowed, the 
log would show an extra half-knot. And 
Spurrell sent the old Minerva until her 
name and her captain's became as house- 
hold words amongst the world of seafarers 
and shippers, as much in British as in 
Antipodean ports. Thus, when the Blue 
Star Line owners began the inevitable "turn- 
ing into steam " Captain Spurrell was the 
man selected to command the first boat — 
a 4,000-ton cargo-passenger — twelve-knotter. 
The Minerva was sold to a Norwegian firm, 
and the steamer named after her. Belfast 
turns some fine work off her stocks, and the 
new Minerva was one of the finest. From 
her hydraulic cranes to her side-light towers, 
from her electric installation to her triple 
expansions and steam steering-gear, all her 
Original from 



furniture was of the best and latest. A fine 
and spacious saloon amidships with a couple 
of score of roomy berths proved an attrac- 
tion to travellers tired of the cat -swinging 
accommodation of the purely passenger lines. 
And at one end of the saloon, occupying 
the whole of a panel of polished bird's-eye 
maple, Spurrell had hung an enlarged and 
very fine framed photograph of the picture in 
the locket Some 
day, he thought, 
one or other of the 
people he carried 
might recognise 
the smiling fea- 
tures which, with- 
out possessing any 
claim to beauty, 
yet by their win- 
ning, pleasant ex- 
pression caused 
many a man to 
pause and invo- 
luntarily smile 
back and think 
he would like to 
know this " friend 
o' the capting's, 
sir, 1 ' as any of the 
stewards could 
tell him she was. 
As a matter of 
fact, John Dibbs, 
the boatswain of 
the Minerva i was 
the only man on 
board who, know- 
ing his captain's 
story, felt no 
doubt as to whom 
the portrait repre- 
sented. ButDibbs 
— who had parted 
from one name with as much facility as 
he had picked up another — kept his mouth 
shut. And if rumours of the captain's 
misfortune now and again leaked out ii was 
through no fault of his. Ever since the day 
he had stood on the old Minerva* $ main 
royal yard and sighted the white chip of a 
boat floundering about with its ghastly cargo 
he had conceived a sort of humble pro- 
prietary affection for the man his keen sight 
had rescued. Thus when, after the manner 
of merchant seamen, the rest of the old crew 
had scattered, John Dibbs, promoted to be 
quartermaster, stuck to the ship voyage after 
voyage, rising to tie boatswain as soon as 
Spurrell took command ; and, now, moving 

Digitized by G* 


with the same rating into the great steamer. 
There he was a personage with a uniform, 
and three mates under him, who flew 
at the sweet chirpings of his silver whistle. 
The comfort and advantage to the rest 
of the executive of a good boatswain on 
board a ship passes all understanding. And 
John Dibhs turned out a very first-class 
petty officer, and was accordingly respected 

and esteemed, 
both by the Deck, 
who trusted him 
implicitly, and by 
the Engine-room 
— although be- 
tween these 
powers there was 
at times the feud 
that seems inevit- 

With his passen- 
gers the captain 
was a favourite. 
Although some- 
what grave and 
reserved, he yet 
showed all pos- 
sible concern for 
their amusement, 
safety, and com- 
fort. And this re- 
putation having 
preceded him, the 
AlinenWs saloon 
on her maiden trip 
was filled with a 
very superior class 
of people to those 
generally found on 
a freighter. And 
it was confidently 
predicted that the 
Miwnitfs time 
would not be so very much behind that of 
the subsidized liners on the shorter route. 
Presently events happened that made this 
prediction far more than fulfil itself. 



If Captain Spurrell was more particular 
about any one thing than another it was in 
the matter of keeping a look-on L On no 
mano'-war could a sharper double watch 
have been maintained both by night and by 
day than on the Minerva, and to lounge or 
drowse and Tail to report a light or a sail 
from high forward bridge or forecastle-head 
before it was seen from amidships was an 
Original from 




almost unpardonable fault By some of his 
officers this " fad " was looked upon as an 
excess of precaution, although John Dibbs 
could have given them a reason for 
it if he had so pleased. The boat- 
swain knew his commander was thinking 
of the plight he had himself been 
rescued from by virtue of a sharp 
glance shot as a mere matter of habit, not 
of duty ; knew, also, that it was the same 
spirit of compassion for all castaways that 
made him on each voyage run as close as he 
dared to those lonely mid-ocean rocks such 
as SL Paul's, Amsterdam, Kerguelen, etc., on 
which men are wrecked and left to eat their 
hearts out in misery and despair for months 

During the summer of 1896, as all sea- 
farers will remember, the ice in the great 
Southern Ocean floated farther and in heavier 
masses to the northward than had ever been 
known before. Thus when the Minerva, 
staying nowhere, and still with half- full 
bunkers, came tearing along the 44th parallel 
on her way, this time to Port Chalmers, 
N.Z., she presently found herself going at 
quarter speed, dodging the great bergs as 
they drove solemnly up in scores from their 
homes around the shores of Antarctica to 
warm their frozen toes in the Gulf Stream. 

And one fine, bright day, the big steamer 
making along a wide lane between ranks of 
glittering ice mountains, a shout arose from 
her fo'c's'le-head as, on turning a corner, a ship 
suddenly came in sight. She was sitting nearly 
upright on a long, low, curly peninsula of ice 
only a few feet above the water, and attached 
like a tail to a massive berg resembling 
an alligator in its outlines. The vessel her- 
self was bedded to the lower edge of her 
painted port streak ; her topgallant and 
royal masts still hung in a glistening maze of 
wreckage adown top and lower masts ; her 
jibboom, snapped short off, trailed on the ice, 
whilst her empty davits and overhauled falls 
told their own story. Frozen snow covered 
her decks and yards and gear, and the pale 
sun lit her up with a cold white glitter, in 
which the only spot of colour was the galley 
funnel that stood tall and black amidst the 
dazzle. She was a large, square-rigged iron 
ship of some 1,400 tons or so, and she looked 
inexpressibly lonely and forlorn sitting there 
as she had sat for years, perhaps, in the 
regions of perpetual ice and snow that girdle 
the Southern Continent, until the massed 
bergs, moved by some mysterious impulse, 
had simultaneously broken camp and sailed 
away into strange waters. 

by Google 

As the Minerva slowed down and became 
stationary opposite the curious scene a few 
of the passengers requested the captain to 
let them go in the boat that was being pre- 
pared to discover, if possible, something 
respecting this white waif, for news of whom 
far-away souls might be still hungering. This 
is every shipmaster's duty, and no man felt 
it more particularly his own than the captain 
of the Minerva, who himself took charge of 
the boat. Coasting along the curved outline 
of the tail, a slippery and dangerous landing- 
place was found at its extreme tip. Up 
this the captain and Dibbs scrambled, with 
another seaman or two carrying shovels 
and picks, and three or four of the most 
determined of the passengers, whilst the rest 
stopped in the boat. There was no trouble 
in ascending the hard snow-bank that had 
drifted along her sides, and so over her 
rail in - board. But the spades had to 
be used before access could be gained 
to the saloon doors from the break of 
the poop. Meanwhile, one of the men 
had been busy clearing the ship's bell of 
ice, and he, presently deciphering the 
inscription, shouted, " Diana, of Cardiff ! " 
and struck eight in reply to the steamer's 
time just then sounding. And the people 
on the wreck started nervously and stared 
aloft as the strokes ran sharply back from 
the berg above them. Despite the bright 
sun and the calm sea there was something 
inexpressibly solemn about the whole scene. 
"Just like opening a vault," whispered one 
passenger to another, with a shiver. At 
last, filing through the narrow passage, they 
stood in the saloon, a fine large sea-parlour, 
well lit now the snow had been cleared 
away from the poop skylights, and with 
everything apparently in place and order. 
The lamp still swung unbroken from 
the deck; the decanters in the tray still 
contained liquor ; a piano stood against 
the after-bulkhead, some stray music-sheets 
lay near it upon the carpet, and a fine clock 
hung against the polished panelling of the 
mizzen-mast, making the hour twelve. Five 
or six shut doors along the side of the 
saloon gave on to berths. Some of these 
were empty, others seemed exactly as the 
occupants had left them, suits of clothes 
depending from the wall, nautical books and 
instruments on shelves, pictures and photo- 
graphs stuck here and there. Evidently 
these had been inhabited by the ship's 

" I've been for'ard," whispered a sailor to 
Dibbs, in an awestruck voice, "an' right from 




the fore-mast to the eyes of her the decks is 
ruz like the roof of a 'ouse* She's been 
nipped bad* Arf down in the fo'c's'le is 
four or five dead men lyirr among blocks ov 
ice as come through a big gush in the port 
bow. You'd best tell the skipper." 

The latter had, on first entering, stared 
around with a puzzled, curious glance, and 
made his way straight to a large cabin right 
aft, remarking, iv I must try and find the 
ship's books/' And here, presently, the 
boatswain found him, seated at a table, a 
log-book open in front of him, and with a 
bewildered kind of expression in his eyes as 
he looked up from his reading. " Diana, of 
Cardiff!" he muttered; "Semple, master; 
salt laden, from Sharpness to Melbourne. 
And the date of last 
entry is June eight 
years back ! Why, 
John, that would be 
almost exactly the 
time, wouldn't it ? " 

"It would, sir/ 
replied the boat- 
swain, knowing 
very well what the 
reference meant 
t£ But surely, sir, 
you don't mean 
as this craft have 
been setting 
here all 
them years," 
The captain 
made no 
answer, but, 
rising, went 
hither and 
t h i t h e r 
about the 
berth, taking 
up t h i ng s 
and laying 
them down 
again in an 
aimless, un- 
certain sort 

of way* "More light!" he exclaimed, pre- 
sently, for the place was dim by reason of 
the snow drifted against the stern windows. 
Striking a match, the boatswain lit a large 
Rochester lamp, that burned as if only just 
trimmed, and shed a fine light around. 
The captain was standing in the centre of 
the room, his brows knit painfully and his 
gaze wandering in anxious fashion from 
object to object. A passenger entered and 
stared around curiously ; and presently, 

its nFssrr A\n utti.f: thank 

by Google 

his eye catching sight of a silk curtain 
attached by rings to a brass rod, he suddenly 
drew it aside, revealing a large oil painting 
of a woman and a child, the latter a fine- 
looking boy of about three or four. 

"By Jove l" he exclaimed, u it's the lady 
in the Mintruds saloon — only a bit older" 

The lamp cast its soft rays full on the 
picture as the boatswain and the passenger 
stood and looked at it. Suddenly a strange 
voice behind them said, "It's liessie and 
little Frank!" and, turning, Dibbs was just 
in time to catch the captain in his arms as 
he lurched headlong over towards him quite 
insensible and motionless. 

Placing the body on a couch, whilst his 
rugged face grew pale with evcitement, be 

sent one of his mates 
to hail the steamer 
for the doctor. 

" It's his own 
ship ! " be exclaimed 
to the wondering 
group of seamen 
and passengers in 
the saloon. " Eight 
long years ago, an 1 
to come acrost her 
this way ! What did 
the old skipper say, 
only that the Lord'd 
sort out the raffle in 
His own good time? 
Aiv Hes took all 
them years to do it ! 
Knt it's come at last, 
straight jinkum! An* 
if our skipper here 
gets his memory 
back, blest if I 
don't join the Salva- 
tion Harmy ! " 

The doctor was a 
young man, and in 
front of this sudden 
responsibility he be- 
came flurried. " Its 
serious," he said, 
11 A fit of some kind. He must be taken on 
board at once," 

4i Xot a bit of it, sir," replied the boat- 
swain. " It's his last show for ptiUirT up bis 
lost bearin's. Put him in his cot there, where 
pVaps he's swung many a time afore, an' let 
him see the things he's been used to in the 
old days when he wakes, an' the chances 
are that his memoryll retarn with the sight 
ov 'em." 

M But I say he must be taken to his own 
Original from 



ship, where I can make a proper examina- 
tion," exclaimed the other, angrily. 

u An* I say he sha'n't ! " retorted the 
boatswain; "an' Mr. Locker'll back me up, 
won't you, sir?" he added, appealing to the 
chief officer, who had arrived in the second 
boat. " Mebbe," he continued, " his mind's 
overhaulin* of itself even now. What's more, 
I don't believe it's any fit. I seen fits afore. 
Why, he's asleep 'ard and fast An f I don't 
leave him till he wakes neither/ 1 

"There's something in what the bo'sun 
says, doctor," remarked the mate, looking 
anxiously at the captain, who certainly 
appeared to have fallen into no more than a 
very sound slumber. "And if this really is 
the ship, preserved by almost a miracle 
amongst the snow and ice, that he once 
commanded, and in one of whose boats he 
lost his memory, why, it might be better, as 
Dibbs says, to let him open his eyes on old 

"Oh, very well," replied the doctor, huffily, 
"only remember you take all responsibility." 

So they lifted the captain into the cot he 
might have slept in eight years ago, and 
turned his head so that when he awoke the 
picture should be the first thing to meet his 

" There's dead men in the 
fo'c's'le, sir," said Dibbs, as 
he sat and watched the cap- 
tain's calm face. li Killed 
lying in their bunks, some 
of 'em, Brrnvn tells me. She 
must ha' got jammed in the 
night most likely. An' then, 
think in' she were goin' down, 
all ban's took to the boats. 
But, instid o 1 sinking she 
worked up on to the ice, an' 
in time bedded herself like 
she is now, an 1 got carried 
away south to the big pack 
an* stayed there." 

"Likely enough," replied 
the mate, "It's a curious 
thing, though, all the same, 
if she should turn out to be 
his ship. But with that 
picture before me I can 
scarcely doubt it." Picking 
up a pair of fine marine glasses that 
the captain had dropped when he 
fell he read an inscription on a silver 
plate, "Presented to Captain Edward 
Semple, of the British ship Diana, 
by King Oscar 1L of Sweden and 
Norway, for rescuing the crew of the 

Digitized by Google 

barque Ellen ■, of Hammerfest, under circum- 
stances of the greatest peril and difficulty. ,J 

" That, I suppose, is his proper name, 
then?" remarked the mate, "and not 
Spurrell. Wonder where he got that ont 
from ? " 

But the boatswain apparently was not 
listening, for he made no reply. In the 
Diana's lower forecastle was a dismal sight. 
The iron plates on the port side had been 
smashed and turned inwards on the men as 
they lay in their bunks, killing three, it must 
have been almost instantly, and hurling three 
more terribly wounded out on to the deck, 
only to be smothered under great fragments 
of ice that were forced violently through the 
wide aperture. And all the bodies now, both 
above and beneath^ were coated in thick ice 
in such wise that the drawn features and con- 
torted limbs could be as clearly seen as if 
embedded in glass* The Minerva* $ men 
had shovelled the snow away from the big, 
square scuttle, and taking it off allowed 
the sun, now overhead 1 to stream down 
and fill the forecastle from end to end, re- 
vealing things so that every feature of the 
entombed dead men stood out with ghastly 
distinctness. Here you might note where 

C! I'.VKI Y SFKM." 1 




the sharp and jagged iron tore its way 
through the breast of one ; there, where the 
cruel plate forced down had cut clean through 
the legs of another. And on every white 
face was the impress of sudden terror and 
a gony, emphasized by staring eyes and 
open mouth. Standing there it was easy, 
indeed, to imagine that dreadful midnight 
shock, the wild dismay of the survivors 
of the watch below as they rushed on 
deck, the grinding and clashing of ice 
against iron, the banging and clattering 
aloft of canvas and falling spars, whilst the 
upheaving of her planks and girders till they 
resembled a hog's back under the pressure 
told of damage irremediable to frame and 

No power or skill of seamanship could 
have saved her once the ice let go its grip, 
for from galley to bows all her bones were 
crushed and broken in addition to the great 
rent that lapped the water-line. And yet, 
after all, the ice had not loosened, and she 
had been preserved and borne up in 
safety all these years by the Hand of 
God for a purpose of His own ! Very many 
matters that on land would fill columns 
of the newspapers and be deemed most 
strange and most wonderful happen at sea 
and pass unchronicled other than by a curt 
paragraph in the " shipping news." This 
meeting with the Diana was one of such 

" Put the hatch on again, men," said the 
mate, in a low voice. " Those poor fellows 
can't do better than where they are. 
Presently, perhaps, they will make back 
whence they came, and stay there frozen 
hard and fast till the Resurrection, kept 
sweet and fresh to answer their names when 
the last watch is mustered." 

"all's well!" 
Coming on deck Mr. Locker looked anxiously 
at the Minerva, her engines idle for the first 
time since leaving London, and her firemen 
crowding the rail and gazing eagerly at the 
stranded ship. On the promenade deck 
there was a flash of colour from women's 
dresses ; on the bridge the second mate 
stumped to and fro, the sunlight catching 
the polished binnacle and telegraphs, and 
flashing the reflection on to him, so that 
he appeared as if enveloped in a haze of 
yellow flame. The avenue of bergs had 
split up and scattered, some hanging to- 
gether, and making fantastic groups and 
chains, others moving slowly along in soli- 

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tary state before the light S.E. breeze. 
Altogether the scene, to one situated so as 
to take in the whole of it — the castaway 
sitting upright, solemn, glistening in her 
spotless robes on the tail of the sprawling 
berg that sloped away from her into the 
grotesque caricature of some huge saurian ; 
the big, black steamer lying just opposite, a 
thin flag of smoke creeping out of her tall, 
buff funnel, blue starred ; the sunshine and 
brightness everywhere of that exceptional 
Southern day ; and the fleecy, floating 
monsters, spired and turreted, dotting the 
bluish-green water under a cloudless sky — 
altogether the scene, I say, to the spectator 
would have been an impressive and beautiful 
one, even for such a capacious stage- 
But Mr. Locker, as was perhaps natural 
considering his responsibility, saw only a 
delayed steamer and some nasty lumps of 
ice ; the derelict he regarded as a tragical 
nuisance, and the weather he sniffed at sus- 
piciously as too good to last. Besides, he 
was genuinely grieved and solicitous about 
the captain, whom, although only on his first 
trip with him, he already liked and respected. 
The hours passed slowly until it became 
late in the afternoon, and the mate fretted 
and fumed, and the doctor sulked, whilst the 
passengers wondered : and the engineers 
exulted and made the most of their unex- 
pected chance, twisting like acrobats in and 
out amongst their cooling cylinders, valves, 
pistons, eccentrics, shaftings, and bearings ; 
tapping, tightening, oiling, and screwing. 
And throughout the slow hours the captain 
never stirred an eyelash ; and often John 
Dibbs, motionless at his side, anxiously leant 
forward to make certain the regular, though 
faint, respiration had not completely stopped. 
Then, all at once, as the sound of the 
steamer's bell striking eight for the third 
time that day came across the water, the 
captain opened his eyes and fixed them 
intently on the picture, and with an expres- 
sion in them that the boatswain had never 
seen there before — one of infinite peace and 

" Bessie ! " he whispered, presently. " And 
little Frank ! " Then, sitting up, he looked 
at the boatswain and smiled, saying : " John, 
I fancy I must have slept." 

" Aye, aye, sir," replied John Dibbs ; " I 
fancy so, too. Only a little matter o* eight 
hours right off the reel." 

" None too long, John," replied the 
captain, getting off his cot, " to recover the 
loss of eight long years." 

" Is that so, Captain Scmple t " asked the 

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other, with emphasis, his face lighting up as 
he spoke. 

" It is so, thank God," replied the captain, 
reverently. " Directly I stepped on board 
this ship a curious feeling crept over me of 
having been here before. In the saloon it 
became stronger* In here stronger still- 
Then when I saw Bessie there and Frank I 
felt sick and ill with the certainty that the 
time appointed had arrived at last Did I 
faint, John?" 

u Doctor said it was a fit," said the 
boa tswain, shortly* "But I knowed better. 
Wanted to take you to the steamer, 
I put my pawl on that, an' Mr. Locker 
backed me up. But the missis, sir?" he 
asked, anxiously, " and the young 'un ? " 

11 Alive and well, I'm sure," said the 
captain ; *' something tells me so, I have 
had dreams, John, and I saw my girt and the 
boy as I left them last in the little Welsh 
village under Cader Idris. And Bessie turned 
and smiled at me — which I take for 
a good sign* Do you know, John, 
that I served in this ship from 
apprentice to master, and that I 
was married in the saloon yonder? 
Little wonder is it that the foul 
hawse in my brain cleared at the 
si^ht of the old spot again \ 
(live me your arm, I feel a bit 
weak and shaky yet. And, oh, 
that awful time in the boat ! * 
And the captain shuddered and 
his face blanched as recollection's 
light came streaming strongly into 
the long - darkened chambers of 
the brain. * ( Mr. Locker, I'm 
going on board," he continued, 
as the mate came forward 
and congratulated him on 
his recovery. H Will you 
please get all the things 
out of my old berth 
yonder into the boat? 
I'll send you another one 
and more hands. Ah, 
yes, the poor fellows in 
the fo'cVle ? Still there; 
you say? A wondrous 
thing, indeed, after all 
these years. Yes, you 
did quite right not to 
disturb them. Now, 
doctor, will you kindly 
see me on board the 
steamer? John, let that 
picture be your especial 
care, I'm still feeling a 

little mixed. Poor old Diana/ It went 
to my heart to leave you on that terrible 
night I And to think that I should find you 
only to leave you once more alone with your 
dead seamen. Fourteen years, boy and man, 
I called you my home. Farewell now for 
ever. You've done your appointed work and 
given me my lost life back again. Farewell, 
old ship ! " And being by this time in the 
departing boat, he took off his cap and 
saluted the derelict. 

Two hours afterwards the Minerva* $ screw 
revolved, and her ensign fluttered thrice from 
her peak halliards whilst her siren blared as 
many times in shrill farewell to the silent, 
lonely ship, flushing a rosy pink in the setting 
sun, and looking inexpressibly solemn and 
tragic to those who now knew her story and 
the secret of that icy sepulchre where her 
men lay awaiting the Last Day, staring with 
wide-open eyes. 

That evening, after dinner, the captain 

Vol. *xL— 13. 


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Original from 

9 8 


told his story to a full saloon of wondering 
people, both seafarers and passengers of all 
degree. Told it from the minute the 
Diana, one thick, dark night, was caught 
and crushed in the ice ; of how, thinking 
she was foundering, the crew, terrified at 
the dreadful fate of those others, rushed 
the boats, taking their officers with them 
by main force ; of how, amongst the 
grinding ice, after the first few hours they 
got separated ; of his subsequent sufferings 
in the boat and the death of his companions, 
ending when he awoke to consciousness 
and a lost lifetime on board the Minerva. 
He spoke of his desperate struggles to avoid 
the despair ever tugging more or less at his 
heart during those dark years ; he told of 
the firm, true friends his misfortunes had 
found for him ; and, lastly, with a catch in 
his voice and quivering lips, he spoke of his 
dear wife and his by now eleven-year-old son, 
expressing his certain faith that, as it had 
pleased Almighty God in such a marvellous 
fashion to restore his memory, He would 
not leave His work half done, but would very 
presently crown it by a joyful reunion. 

And when he finished, standing upright at 
the head of his table in the crowded saloon, 
amongst all his hearers was scarce a dry eye. 

As he sat down there was a long pause, 
broken only by the sobbing of the women. 
Then suddenly the sweet shrilling of a silver 
pipe sounded through the ship, followed 
immediately by a long, hoarse roar from the 
boatswain, just outside, of " Three cheers for 
Captain Semple, an' the missis, an' the kid ! " 
responded to as if by magic from a hundred 
and fifty throats rising from engine-room to 
bridge and back to saloon again and again, 
till the great ship rang to the storm of voice, 
and her look-out men watching the tall bergs 
glimmering pale through the darkness fancied 
they saw them shiver and tremble as the 
sound smote their cold breasts. 

Such was the manner of the second 

" What can we get out of her at a pinch, 
Mr. McPhair ? " asked the captain, later, as 
the chief engineer entered his state-room. 

" Weel, sir," replied the other, cautiously, 
"she's offeecially eendicated a twal-knot 
boat, which means thirrteen at the vera 
ootside, ye ken. Whiles I might knock 
anither half oot o' her. However, it's mair a 
question o' coal nor aught else. The engines 
is gude enough." 

" It's exactly 5,900 miles from where we 
are to Otago Harbour," replied the captain ; 
" I want to get there in a fortnight. Can't 
you help me ? " McPhair gave a long, low 
whistle, pocketed both hands, and had 
already begun to set his hard face into even 
more than its native stubbornness, when 
suddenly he remembered, and, looking up 
and meeting the captain's gaze, opened his 
heart and responded as far as in him lay to 
what he saw there. 

" If I canna'," said he, taking out a hand 
and gripping the other's warmly, " there's 
nae ither body can." That was all he said. 
But by-and-by the captain heard sounds 
far below amongst the machinery that he 
had never heard before. A heavy jar of 
flowers on a table first quivered and then 
began to dance a reel ; the ship shook as if 
all her bolts in all her plates were being 
loosened ; whilst the usual dull thump, 
thump of the engines was exchanged for a 
sharp, metallic, clashing rattle. Coming out 
on to the bridge and looking for'ard he saw 
two great mounds of white water on the 
bows, each as high as the foot of the light- 
houses, and that so steadily kept their place 
as to appear motionless, although all the time 
pouring away aft in streams of foam. 

" I'm afraid something must be wrong in 
the engine-room, sir," remarked Mr. Locker, 
as he braced himself to the vibrating bridge. 

" I think not," replied the captain, smiling 
in the darkness. " Ask the quartermaster 
to see what we're doing under forced 

" Sixteen and a half, sir ! " reported the 
mate presently, with a note of awe in his 
voice. " Engines must ha' run away from 
old Mac ! " But suddenly, by the chart- 
room lamps, catching sight of the captain's 
face, he understood ; and, being compara- 
tively a young man, he took off his cap 
and waved it, and exclaimed, " Hurrah, sir, 
ten days of this will bring you to the cable 
and good news from home ! " 

" Please God it may ! " replied the captain, 

" Light is bright to starboard — and all's 
well I " chanted a man in tones sounding 
clear and mellow above the rush of water 
and clash of steel and brass, answered 
instantly by, "Light is bright to port— and 
all's well ! " 

And all was well. 

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Original from 


ATTOOING is a gift, said the 
night watch man t firmly. It 
'as to be a gift, as you can well 
see. A man 'as to know wot 
'e is goi ng to tattoo an' 'ow to 
CI do it ; therms no rubbing out 
or altering. It's a gift, an* it can't be learnt. 
I knew a man once abused to tattoo a cabin- 
boy all over every. v'y'ge trying to learn. 'E 
was a slow, painstaking sort o' man, and the 
langwidge those boys used to use while 'e 
was at work would 'ardly be believed, but 'e 
*ad to give up trying arter about fifteen years 
and take to crochet-work instead. 

Some men won't be tattooed at all, being 
proud o' their skins or sich-like, and for a 
good many years Ginger iJick, a man I've 
spoke to you of before, was one o' that sort. 
Like many red 'aired men 'e 'ad a very white 
skin, which 'e was very proud of, but at last, 
owing to a unlbrtmt idea o 1 making 'is 
fortin, ? e let hisself be done. 

It come about in this way : Him and old 
Sam Small and Peter Russet 'ad been paid 
off from their ship and was 'aving a very 
*appy, pleasant time ashore. They was 
careful men in a way, and they 'ad taken a 
room down East India Road way, and paid 
up the rent for a month. It came cheaper 
than a lodging-'ouse, besides being a bit more 
private and respectable, a thing old Sam was 
always very pertickler about. 

Copyright w the Untied States 

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They 'ad been ashore about three weeks 
when one day old Sam and Peter went off 
alone becos Ginger said 'e wasn't going with 
'em. He said a lot more things, too : 'ow 
'e was going to see wot it felt like to be in 
bed without 'aving a fat old man groaning 'is 
f eart out and another one knot king on the 
mantelpiece all night with twopence and 
wanting to know why he wasn't being served. 

Ginger Dick fell into a quiet sleep arter 
they'd gone ; then ? e woke up and 'ad a 
sip from the water jug — he'd 'a had more, 
only somebody 'ad dropped the soap in it — 
and then dozed off agin. It was late in the 
afternoon when 'e woke, and then 'e see Sam 
and Peter Russet standing by the side o' the 
bed looking at 'im, 

* 4 WhereVe you been ? " ses Ginger, stretch- 
ing hisself and yawning, 

** Bisness/' ses Sam, sitting down an' look- 
ing very important, u While you've been 
laying on your back all day me an' Peter 
Russet 'as been doing a little Vad-work, 

" Oh ! " ses Ginger. " Wot with ? " 

Sam coughed and Peter began to whistle, 
an s Ginger he laid still and smiled up at the 
ceiling, and began to feel good-tempered 

" Well, wot's the business ? " he ses at last 

Sam looked at Peter, but Peter shook 'is 
*ead at him. 

M It's just a little bit o' bisness we 'appened 

of America by W. W. Jacobs, tflot. 

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to drop on," ses Sam at last, " me an* Peter, 
and I think that, with luck and management, 
we're in a fair way to make our fortunes. 
Peter, 'ere, ain't given to looking on the 
cheerful side o' things, but 'e thinks so, too." 

"I do," ses Peter, "but it won't be 
managed right if you go blabbing it to every- 

" We must 'ave another man in it, Peter," 
ses Sam ; " and, wot's more, 'e must 'ave 
ginger-coloured 'air. That being so, it's only 
right and proper that our dear old pal Ginger 
should 'ave the fust offer." 

It wasn't often that Sam was so affeckshun- 
ate, and Ginger couldn't make it out at all. 
Ever since 'e'd known 'im the old man 'ad 
been full o' plans o' making money without 
earning it Stupid plans they was, too, but 
the stupider they was the more old Sam 
liked 'em. 

"Well, wot is it ?" asks Ginger, agin. 

Old Sam walked over to the door and shut 
it ; then 'e sat down on the bed and spoke 
low so that Ginger could hardly 'ear 'im. 

" A little public-'ouse," he ses, " to say 
nothing of 'ouse property, and a red-'aired 
old landlady wots a widder. As nice a old 
lady as anyone could wish for, for a mother." 

" For a mother ! " ses Ginger, staring. 

" And a lovely barmaid with blue eyes and 
yellow 'air, wot ud be the red-'edded man's 
cousin," ses Peter Russet 

" Look 'ere," ses Ginger, "are you going 
to tell me in plain English wot it's all about, 
or are you not ? " 

"We've been in a little pub down Bow 
way, me an' Peter," ses Sam, " and we'll tell 
you more about it if you promise to join us 
an' go shares. It's kep' by a widder woman 
whose on'y son — red- aired son — went to sea 
twenty-three years ago, at the age o' fourteen, 
an' was never 'eard of arterwards. Seeing we 
was sailor-men, she told us all about it, an' 
'ow she still 'opes for him to walk into 'er 
arms afore she dies. 

" She dreamt a fortnit ago that 'e turned 
up safe and sound, with red whiskers," ses 

Ginger Dick sat up and looked at 'em with- 
out a word ; then 'e got up out o' bed, an' 
pushing old Sam out of the way began to 
dress, and at last 'e turned round and asked 
Sam whether he was drunk or only mad. 

" All right," ses Sam ; " if you won't take 
it on we'll find somebody as will, that's all ; 
there's no call to get huffy about it. You 
ain't the on'y red-'edded man in the world." 

Ginger didn't answer 'im ; he went on 
dressing, but every now and then 'e'd look at 

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Sam and give a little larf wot made Sam's 
blood boil. 

"You've got nothin' to larf at, Ginger," 
he ses at last ; " the landlady's boy 'ud be 
about the same age as wot you are now ; 'e 
'ad a scar over the left eyebrow same as wot 
you've got, though I don't suppose fu got it 
by fighting a chap three times 'is size. 'E 
'ad bright blue eyes, a small, well-shaped 
nose, and a nice mouth." 

" Same as you, Ginger," ses Peter, looking 
out of the winder. 

Ginger coughed and looked thoughtful. 

" It sounds all right, mates," 'e ses at last, 
" but I don't see 'ow we're to go to work. I 
don't want to get locked up for deceiving." 

"You can't get locked up," ses Sam ; "if 
you let 'er discover you and claim you, 'ow 
can you get locked up for it ? We shall go 
in an' see her agin, and larn all there is to 
larn, especially about the tattoo marks, and 
then " 

" Tattoo marks ! " ses Ginger. 

" That's the strong p'int," ses Sam. " 'Er 
boy 'ad a sailor dancing a 'ornpipe on 'is left 
wrist, an a couple o' dolphins on his right 
On 'is chest 'e 'ad a full-rigged ship, and on 
'is back between 'is shoulder-blades was the 
letters of 'is name — C. R. S. : Charles Robert 

"Well, you silly old fool," ses Ginger, 
starting up in a temper, " that spiles it all. I 
ain't got a mark on me." 

Old Sam smiles at 'im and pats him on 
the shoulder. " That's where you show your 
want of intelleck, Ginger," he ses, kindly. 
" Why don't you think afore you speak ? 
Wot's easier than to 'ave 'em put on ? " 

"Wott" screams Ginger. "Tattoo met 
Spile my skin with a lot o' beastly blue marks ! 
Not me, not if I know it I'd like to see 
anybody try it, that's all." 

He was that mad 'e wouldn't listen to 
reason, and, as old Sam said, 'e couldn't have 
made more fuss if they'd offered to skin 'im 
alive, an' Peter Russet tried to prove that a 
man's skin was made to be tattooed on, or 
else there wouldn't be tattooers ; same as a 
man 'ad been given two legs so as 'e could 
wear trousers. But reason was chucked 
away on Ginger, an' 'e wouldn't listen to 'em. 

They started on 'im agin next day, but all 
Sam and Peter could say didn't move 'im, 
although Sam spoke so feeling about the 
joy of a pore widder woman getting 'er son 
back agin arter all these years that 'e nearly 

They went down agin to the pub that 
evening, and Ginger, who said 'e was curious 

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to see, wanted to go, too, 

Sam, who still J ad 'opes of 

J im, wouldn't 'ear of it, but 

at last it was arranged 

that *e wasn't to go 

inside, but should take a peep through the 

door, They got on a tram at Aldgate, and 

Ginger didn't like it becos Sam and Peter 

talked it over between theirselves in whispers 

and pointed out likely red-'aired men in the 


And 'e didn't like it when they got to the 
Blue Lion, and Sam and Peter went in 
and left 'im outside, peeping through the 
door. The landlady shook 'ands with them 
quite friendly, and the barmaid, a fine-looking 
girl, seemed to take a lot o r notice of Peter. 
Ginger waited about outside for nearly a 
couple of hours, and at last they came out, 
talking and larfing, with Peter wearing a 
while rose wot the barmaid 'ad given 'im. 

Ginger Dick *ad a good bit to say about 
keeping 'im waiting all that time, but Sam 
said that they'd been getting valuable in- 
formation, an' the more 'e could see of it the 
easier the job appeared to be, an' then him 
an' Peter wished for to bid Ginger good bye, 
while they went and 'tinted up a red-'aired 
friend o 1 Peter's named Charlie Bates. 

They all went in somewhere and T ad a few 
drinks first, though, and arter a time Ginger 
began to see things in a different light to wot 
'e 'ad before, an' to be arf ashamed of *is 
selfishness, and 'e called Sam's pot a loving- 
cup, an' kep' on drinking out of it to show 
there was no ill-feeling, although Sam kep' 
telling him there wasn't. Then Sam spoke 

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up about tattooing agin, and 
Ginger said that every man in 
the country ought to he tattooed 
to prevent the small pox. He 
got so excited about it that 
old Sam 'ad to promise 'im 
that he should be tattooed that 
very night, before he could 
pacify 'im. 

They all went off 'ome with 
their arms round each other's 
necks, but arter a time Ginger 
found that Sam's neck wasn't 
there, an' 'e stopped and spoke 
serious to Peter about It. Peter 
said J e couldn't account for it, 
an* 'e had such a job to get 
Ginger 'ome that 'e thought 
they would never ha 5 got there. 
He got 'im to bed at last an' 
then 'e sat down and fell asleep 
waiting for Sam. 

Ginger was the last one to 
wake up in the morning, an' 
before 'e woke he kept making 
a moaning noise. His 'ead felt 
as though it wns going to bust, 
'is tongue felt like a brick, and 'is chest was 
so sore 'e could 'ardly breathe. Then at 
last 'e opened 'is eyes and looked up and 
saw Sam an' Peter and a little man with a 
black moustache. 

"Cheer up, Ginger," ses Sam, in a kind 
voice, " it's going on beautiful." 

"My J ead's splitting ses Ginger, with a 
groan, " an* I've got pins an 1 needles all over 
my chest/' 

14 Needles,' 1 ses the man with the black 
moustache. H I never use pins ; they'd ptson 
the flesh." 

Ginger sat up in bed and stared at 'im ; 
then 'e bent J is 'ead down and squinted at 'is 
chest, and next moment 'e was out of bed 
and all three of Vm was holding 'im down 
on the floor to prevent 'im breaking the 
tattooer's neck which 'e'd set 'is 'art upon 
doing, and explaining to 'im that the tattooer 
was at the top of 'is profession, and that it 
was only by a stroke of luck 'e had got 'im. 
And Sam reminded 'im of wot s e 'ad said the 
night before, and said he'd live to thank *im 
for it. 

ut Owmuch is there done?" ses Ginger, at 
last, in a desprit voice, 

Sam told 'im, and Ginger lay still and 
called the tattooer all the names he could 
think of; which took T im some time. 

" It's no good going on like that, Ginger," 
ses Sam. " Your chest is quite spiled at 

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present, but if you ony let J im finish it'll be a 
per feck picter." 

u l take pride in it, 1 * ses the tattooer ; 
" working on your skin, mate, is like painting 
on a bit o' silk-" 

Ginger gave in at last, and told the man 
to go on with the job and finish it, and 
'e even went so far as to do a little bit o* 
tattooing 'imself on Sain when he wasn't look- 
ing, 'E only made one mark, becos the 
needle broke off, and Sam made such a fuss 
that Ginger said anyone would ha 1 thought 
'e'd hurt 'im. 

It took three days to do Ginger altogether, 
and he was that sore 'e could 'ardly move or 
breathe, and all the time *e was laying on 'is 
bed of pain Sam an I Peter Russet was round 

at the Blue Lion enjoying theirselves and 
picking up information. The second day 
was the worst, owing to the lattooer being 
the worse for licker. Drink affects different 
people in different ways, and Ginger said 
the way it affected that chap was to make 
'im think 9 e was sewing buttons on instead o 1 

'Qwever 'e was done at last ; his chest and 
'is arms and is shoulders, and he nearly broke 
down when Sam borrowed a bit o 1 looking- 
glass and let 'im see hisself, Then the 
taltooer rubbed in some stuff to make 'is 
skin soft agin, and some more stuff to make 
the marks look a bit old- 

Sam wanted to draw up an agreement, but 
Ginger Dick and Peter Russet wouldn't 'ear 
of it. They both said that that sort o 1 thing 
wouldn't look well in writing, not if anybody 
else happened to see it, that is ; besides 

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which Ginger said it was impossible for 'tm 
to say W much money he would 'ave the 
handling of. Once the tattooing was done 
*e began to take a'most kindly to the plan, 
an' being an orfin, so far as 'e knew, he 
almost began to persuade hisself that the 
red -'aired landlady was T is mother. 

They 'ad a little call over in their room to 
see 'ow Ginger was to do it, and to discover 
the weak points. Sam worked up a squeaky 
voice, and pretended to be the landlady, 
and Peter pretended to be the good-looking 

They went all through it over and over 
agin, the only unpleasantness being caused by 
Peter Russet letting off a screech every time 
Ginger alluded to 'is chest wot set 'is teeth on 

edge, and old Sam 
as the landlady 
offering Ginger 
pots o' beer which 
made ^is mouth 

" We shall go 
round to-morrow 
for the last time/' 
ses Sam, " as we 
told Vt weVe sail- 
ing the day arter 
Of course me an' 
Peter, 'aving made 
your fortin, drop 
out altogether, but 
I dessay we shall 
look in agin in 
about six months' 
time, and then 
perhaps the land- 
lady will interduce 
us to you. 7 ' 

" Meantime/' 
ses Peter Russet, 
"you mustn't for- 
get that you've got to send us Post Office 
money-orders every week/' 

Ciinger said 7 e wouldn't forget, and they 
shook J ands all round and J ad a drink 
together, and the next artemoon Sam and 
Peter went to the Blue Lion for a last 

It was quite early when they came back. 
Ginger was surprised to see f em ? and he said 
so f but *e was more surprised when J e heard 
their reasons. 

"It come over us all at once as we'd bin 
doing wrong," Sam ses, setting down with a 

n Come over us like a chill, it did," ses 
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II Doing wrong? 11 ses Ginger Dick, staring. 
lr Wot are you talking about ? " 

" Something the landlady said showed us as 
we was doin 1 wrong," ses old Sam, very 
solemn ; " it come over us in a flash," 

*' Like lightning,'* ses Peter. 

"All of a sudden we see wot a cruel, 'ard 
thing it was to go and try and deceive a poor 
widder woman," ses Sam, in a 'usky voice ; 
" we both see it at once." 

Ginger Dick looks at 'em, J ard 'e did, and 
then s e ses, jeering like : — 

II I 'spose you don't want any Post Office 
money-orders sent you, then ?" he ses. 

" No," says Sam and Peter, both 

" You may have f em all," ses Sam ; " but 
.if you'll be ruled by us, Ginger, you'll give it 
up, same as wot we 'ave — you'll sleep the 
sweeter for it," 

" Give it up ! " shouts Ginger, dancing up 
an' down the room, 
" alter being tattooed 
all over ? Why, you 
must be cra^y, Sam — 
wot's the matter with 

" It ain't fair play 
agin a woman," says 
old Sam, "three strong 
men agin one poor old 
woman ; that's wot we 
feel, Ginger," 

"Well, / don't feel 
like it," ses Ginger \ 
" you please yourself, 
and I'll please myself," 

'E went off in a huff, 
an' next morning 'e was 
so disagreeable that 
Sam an J Peter went 
and signed on board a 
steamer called the 
Penguin, which was to 
sail the day arter. They 
parted bad friends all 
round, and Ginger Dick 
gave Peter a nasty black 
eye, and Sam said that 
when Ginger came to 
see things in a proper 
way agin he'd be sorry for wot Vd said* And 
'e said that 'im and Peter never wanted to 
look on 'is face agin. 

Ginger Dick was a bit lonesome arter 
they'd gone, but J e thought it better to let a 
few days go by afore 'e went and adopted the 
red-'aired landlady. He waited a week, and 



and 'ad a shave and smartened hisself up, 
and went off to the Blue Lion. 

It was about three o'clock when J e got 
there, and the little public- J ouse was empty 
except for two old men in the jug-and-bottle 
entrance, Ginger stopped outside a minute 
or two to try and stop 'is trembling, and then 
'e walks into the private bar and raps on the 

"Glass o* bitter^ ma'am, please," he ses to 
the old lady as she came out o* the little 
parlour at the back o J the bar. 

The old lady drew the beer, and then 
stood with one 'and holding the beer-pull and 
the other on the counter, looking at Ginger 
Dick in T is new blue jersey and cioth cap. 

14 Lovely weather, ma'am," ses Ginger, 
putting his left arm on the counter and 
showing the sailor-boy dancing the horn- 

nice," ses the landlady, catching 
sight of 'is wrist an 1 
staring at it M I sup- 
pose you sailors like 
fine weather ? " 

" Yes, ma'am," ses 
(dinger, putting his 
elbows on the counter 
so that the tattoo 
marks on both wrists 
was showing. " Fine 
weather an' a fair wind 
suits us," 

" It's a J ard life, the 
sea," ses the old lady. 

She kept wiping down 
the counter in front of 
J im over an' over agin, 
an' ? e could see 'er 
staring at ? is wrists as 
tho'gh she could *ardly 
believe her eyes. Then 
she went back into the 
parlour, and Ginger 
'eard her whispering, 
and by-and-by she came 
out agin with the blue- 
eyed barmaid. 

M Have you been at 
sea long ? " ses the 
old lady. 

"Over twenty-three years, ma'am," ses 
Ginger, avoiding the barmaid's eye wot was 
fixed on J is wrists, "and IVe been ship- 
wrecked four times ; the fust time when I 
was a little nipper o' fourteen." 

" Pore thing," ses the landlady, shaking Vr 
'ead. " I can feel for you ; my boy went to 


at last, unable to wait any longer, 'e went out sea at that age, and I've never seen *im since." 

by Google 

Original from 



11 I'm sorry to 'ear it, ma'am," ses (ringer, 
very respectful-like, u I suppose I've lost 
my mother, so I can feel for you." 

" Suppose you've lost your mother ! " ses 
the barmaid; "don't you know whether you 

" No," ses Ginger Dick, very sad* " When 
I was wrecked the fust time I was in a open 
boat for three weeks, and, wot with the 
exposure and 'ardly any food, 1 got brain 
fever and lost my memory P !* 

"Tore thing," Ses the landlady agin, 

"I might as well be a orfin," ses Ginger, 
looking down ; "sometimes I seem to see a 
kind, 'andsome face bending over me, and 
fancy it's my mother's, but 1 can't remember 
'er name, or my name, 
or anythink about 'er," 

"You remind me o 
my boy very much/' ses 
the landlady, shaking 
J er 'ead ; tf you've got 
the same coloured 'air, 
and, wot's extraordinary, 
you've got the same 
tattoo marks on your 
wrists. Sailor- boy 
dancing on one and a 
couple of dolphins on 
the other, And V 'ad 
a little scar on 'is eye- 
brow, much the same 
as yours." 

M Good 'evins," ses 
Ginger Dick, starting 
back and looking as 
though 'e was trying to 
remember something. 

" I s'pose they're 
common among sea- 
faring men ? " ses the 
landlady, going off to attend to a customer. 

(linger Dick would ha' liked to ha' seen 'er 
a bit more excited, but V ordered another 
glass o' bitter from the barmaid, and tried to 
think 'ow he was to bring out about the ship 
on 'is chest and the letters on 'is back. The 
landlady served a couple o F men, and by-and- 
by she came back and began talking agin. 

" I like sailors," she ses ; " one thing is, my 
boy was a sailor ; and another thing is, they've 
got such feelin' carts. There was two of 
'em in 'ere the other day, who'd been in 

'ere once or twice, and one of them was that 
kind 'earted I thought he would ha' 'ad a fit 
at something I told him." 

** Ho," ses Ginger, pricking up his ear*. 
"Wot for?" 

" I was just talking to 'im about my hoy, 
same as I might be to you," ses the old lady f 
"and I was just telling 'im about the pooi 
child losing 'is finger " 

" Losing 'is tvoiV* ses Ginger, turning 
pale and staggering back. 

u Finger," ses the landlady. " 'E was only 
ten years old at the time, and I'd sent 'im 

out to Wot's the matter? Ain't you 

well ? " 

Ginger didn't answer *er a word, he 

wot's the matter? ais't you \yei,i ? 

couldn't, 'E went on going backwards 
until 'e got to the door, and then 'e suddenly 
fell through it into the street, and tried to 

Then 'e remembered Sam and Peter, and 
when 'e thought of them safe and sound 
aboard the Penguin he nearly broke down 
altogether, as *e thought how lonesome he 

All *e wanted was 'is arms round both their 
necks same as they w T as the night afore they 
'ad 'im tattooed. 

by Google 

Original from 

Some Wonders front the PVest. 



From a FhatuQrtip/L. 

UST outside of Springfield* 
Massachusetts, in the little 
suburb of Bright wood, on an 
abandoned grass -grown side 
track, lies a largo palace-car, 
bearing the name 4i Boston/' 
Everything about the exterior of the coach 

indicates that it has been carefully looked 

after. The brass 

handles are free of 

the least sugges- 
tion of tarnish, 

the large bevelled 

glass windows 

have been cleaned 

and polished to 

the traditional 

clearness of crys- 
tal, and not a 

single scratch 

mars the paint on 

the woodwork. 

Crossing the 

portal and enter- 
ing the interior 

the appearance of 

the car is calcu- 
lated to make 

even the most 

travel- hardened 

visitor stare with 

On every side 

are evidences of 

the most opulent 
Vol. ui. -14. 

luxury and un< 
limited wealth. 
The curtains arc 
of damask , of silk, 
of satin, and the 
richest cardinal 
velvet. The wood- 
work is of the 
most expensive 
inlaid mahogany 
and ebony. Great, 
capacious reclin- 
ing chairs, up- 
holstered in the 
finest leather, are 
scattered over the 
car, and in the 
background is a 
handsome library, 
filled with expen- 
sive and rare 
books in the 
most artistic bindings. On a 
evidently set for dinner, is 
valuable solid silver, delicate 
and exquisite French 

richest and 

small table, 

a service of 

hand-painted china, 

cut-glass, every piece of which must be worth 

almost its weight in gold* The tablecloth 

and napkins are made of Irish linen of the 

snowiest whiteness, and every detail, every- 

-*.« viuujji^— -!j M ^ M | CH | GAN 




from a} 


thing about the car, is characterized by the 
most refined elegance, a magnificence only 
obtainable at the cost of a prodigal outlay of 

" Who, then, is the occupant of this car?" 
is the natural inquiry of the visitor, "What 
Crcesus spends his time in this palace on 
wheels, rolling 
rapidly over the 
country, with all 
the comforts and 
luxuries of the 
most splendidly- 
appointed hotel 
at his disposal? 
Who is the pluto- 
crat, the man of 
millions, the 
wealthy magnate, 
who is master of 
all this splen- 
dour ? * 

The answer to 
this question dis- 
closes a state of 
affairs more pecu- 
liar tli an any 
which novelist 
ever pictured — a 
real romance of 
real life ■ the 
story of how a 

menial, a humble 
servant, became 
master of a resi- 
dence worth sixty 
thousand dollars 
— of starvation in 
the in i d s t of 
plenty, of gaunt 
poverty reigning 
supreme in the 
worthy the home 
of a multi-million- 

Allan Dudley, a 
negro, and his wife 
are the only occu- 
pants of this sump- 
tuous car. It is 
their only home, 
and for almost two 
years they have 
known no other. 

Yet Dudley is 
only a porter. His 
salary is sixty- five 
dollars a month. 
He has no other income* and even this modest 
competence has not been paid for the past 
two years. Never was a better instance of 
the irony of fate than this negro's present 

Although they live m a sixty-thousand- 
dollar residence, have in their keeping silver 

[ i'kotatfraiik. 


I I'hofoprajih. 



plate worth a small fortune, china ware, cut- 
glass, linen, etc., Dudley and his wife live in 
utter destitution, and once or twice have only 
escaped starvation by begging food from 
kind-hearted neighbours. 

Even with its residents out of question, 
there is a remarkable story in the " Boston " 
itself; a startling exemplification of the old 
adage, " To what base uses may we come at 

It is a magnificently built and furnished 
coach. At one end is the porter's bedroom, 
used in the day 
for an observation- 
room. Besides this 
are large lavatories 
for men and for 
women. A linen 
cupboard contains 
1,500 pieces of 
the best linen, and 
a wine cupboard 
is stored with 
every design of 
wine service. In 
the middle of the 
car is the parlour 
by day and the 
berth -room by 
night. By day it is 
a regular parlour- 
chair car, with 
appliances for its 
quick conversion 
into a dining-car. 
At each of the 
ten tables which 
may be set up is 
a service of thirty 

pieces of solid silver ware. At night, ten 
berths on each side of the car are raised up 
from what is called in railroad parlance the 
11 belly " under the flooring. There is sleep- 
ing accommodation for forty persons. All 
the berths are magnificently fitted, and are 
more roomy than those of a usual Pullman. 
At the other end of the car are a writing desk 
and library, besides this, there is a steam- 
heated apparatus in a small room, cupboards 
for all purposes, and a kitchen perfectly fitted 
with the best china ware. 

When built eleven years ago this splendid 
car was acclaimed a marvel, and experts freely 
predicted that it would completely revo- 
lutionize railroad travel 

It is conceded to be the finest piece of 
rolling-stock ever constructed, and while 
only valued at sixty thousand dollars, the 
total expenses of building, altering and 

Digitized by G* 

reconstructing, arranging the patents, and all 
preliminaries, aggregate fully one hundred 
thousand dollars, 

The car was invented by a Boston ian, 
named Den ham, and its peculiarity was that 
it was so arranged as to form a combination 
palace-car, dining-car, observation train, and 

Built originally to illustrate the value of 
this new principle, the " Jeannette," as it was 
first called, travelled all over the United 
States, as well as Canada, Mexico, and 

From a\ 



Central America, and the ingenuity of its 
construction, the economy of space, and the 
splendour of its appointments created a 
veritable furore, 

Men of millions, railroad presidents, 
financiers, bankers, and brokers were lavishly 
entertained within its walls. The Imperial 
Governor-General of Canada, Lord Aberdeen, 
was among the most enthusiastic of the dis- 
tinguished guests. Everything indicated the 
speedy adoption of the new car all over the 
country, and several orders were actually 
received, but, unfortunately, the enormous 
outlay necessary to launch the enterprise had 
severely drained the resources of the operat- 
ing company, and in a short time its affairs 
became seriously involved. Creditors were 
pn-^ing, debts accumulating, and finally the 
Harris Palatial Car Co., as the first owners 
called themselves, had to sell out at forced 




Fro m a } 


sale, and only realized ten thousand dollars 
for the " Jean net te/' 

The purchasers immediately formed a new 
company, the American Palace Car Co + 
The car was rebuilt and improved at an 
outlay of forty thousand dollars, re named 
the " Boston, 1 ' and once again sent out for 

Under the first management, during the 
memorable tour, Allan Dudley had been 
porter, and the new company retained his 
services at a salary of sixty -five dollars a 
month. Dudley was a useful man, who 
could not only discharge the duties of 
porter, hut, through his thorough under- 
standing of the mechanism of the car* was 
able to assist in its display. 

The second trip was but a repetition of the 
first. Everywhere the car was admired, and 
would undoubtedly have come into use but 
for the prejudice engendered by pending 
patent litigation. The fatality which had 
pursued the car under the first regime came 
as a legacy to the new concern, and its affairs 
were soon as hopelessly tangled as those r>[ 
its predecessor* 

The financial troubles finally reached a 
climax January 15th, 1899, when the rar was 
sent to the Wason Company at Bright wood 
for repairs. Since that time it has remained 
in their possession on a side-track, the 
owners being unable to raise the thirteen 
hundred dollars due fur repairs, 

Six lawyers are 
now in Springfield 
various creditors 
of the company, 
and so thoroughly 
are matters in- 
volved that it will 
probably be years 
before a settle- 
ment can be 
reached and the 
ultimate fate of 
the car decided. 

The stockholders 
cannot obtain 
possession of their 
property without a 
complete settle- 
ment. They can- 
not move it from 
the yards until the 
Wa son Com pa n y 
is paid thirteen 
hundred dollars 
due for repairs, 
and the moment they satisfy this claim attach- 
ments will be served by all the other creditors, 
This is how it happens that the magnifi- 
cent car lies abandoned in IS right wood, and 
that the former porter and his wife are living 
in a sixty-thuitsand-dollar home, 

Throughout all the vicissitudes of the 
company the Dudleys have remained loyal 
The porter now has the distinction of being 
the American Palace Car Company's only 
employe, and although he has not received 
any salary for two years he has stuck bravely 
to his post and protected the car and its 
valuable fittings against burglars. 

The instant the w Boston " became a 
prisoner in the yard the company seemed 
suddenly to forget that such a person as 
Dudley existed. From time to time he has 
written the most appealing letters, set ling 
forth his destitute condition and begging lor 
a portion of the overdue salary. In reply 
he has received polite acknowledgments, 
expressions of recognition of his faithful- 
ness, hut never any money. Dudley is 
therefore virtually a prisoner on the hand- 
somely appointed coach. In various ways, 
with the assistance of Brightwood people, he 
has eked out a precarious living. He does 
not take a regular situation, because that 
would entail legal surrender of the present 
position, and he might never be able to 
collect his bill, . It is only his careful watch 
of the ca^WEWlffieiTialrcady prevented 




heavy loss from thieves, who have made 
three attempts to break in and steal the 

Both husband and wife go constantly armed 
in order to repel such attacks. In spite of 
his poor treatment Dudley has discharged his 
trust with a fidelity almost unparalleled* In 
his possession and entirely subject to his 
order he has had several thousand dollars' 
worth of movable chattels, which could 
readily have been turned into money. These 
include 400 pieces of solid silver plate, 900 
pieces of exquisite hand-painted china, 
300 pieces of the best French cut-glass, 
1,500 pieces of the finest table and bed-linen, 
to say nothing of the books, expensive copper 
cooking utensils, and other equipments of the 

car; yet in spite of all his privations he has 
never yielded to the natural temptation, and 
can account for every article the company 
delivered into his care. 

Dudley is a man out of the ordinary, an 
exceptionally clever negro* Bom in Ohio, 
he received a good education and uses 
excellent English, He is a fine-looking man, 
and bears some resemblance to Booker T. 
Washington, the noted negro educator. His 
wife is white, a Canadian* Dudley met her 
in Ottawa in 1H97, and they were married by 
a Methodist minister in Spring field. 

When Dudley succeeds in collecting the 
overdue salary they intend removing to 
Ottawa to take up their permanent residence 
near Mrs. Dudley's people. 

By Frederick T. C Langdon, 

Longfellow's beautiful poem, 4i Hia- 
watha," has been born again. After these 
many years since the American bard first 
gave the world of literature the charming 

after novel is being put upon the stage, if 
the Fattis have ever consented to work to- 
gether so picturesquely and harmoniously, 
It is doubtful, too, if any drama, in recent 


Front, a Photograph, 

redskin love-story it has been dramatized, 
and, stranger than all else, dramatized by 
[fh Indian* of the Ojibway tribe whence the 
legend came. 

It is doubtful, even in this era when novel 

years at least, has been presented by actors 
in whose veins coursed the blood of those 
who gave the story birth. 

To lovers .pf. the best in literature there 
comes a 5tronjr r d£H9^ of l WB eternal fitness of 


I 10 


things in this unique and weird performance. 
Most touching of all, however, and delight- 
fully in keeping with the sentiment of the 
occasion, was the fact that among the spec- 
tators at the production of the diama were 
the poet's daughters, Miss Alice Longfellow 
and Mrs. J, G. Thorpe, as well as eight or 
ten more distant relatives. 

The presentation of " Hiawatha " by the 
Indians was given on the 25th of August last 
at Kensington Point, two miles from Des- 
ba rates, Canada, in the very heart of the 
Ojibway land. Kensington Point is one of 
the daintiest garden spots in Nature. Rock- 
ribbed, tree-crowned, shrub -fringed, it juts 
into a northern arm of Lake Huron towards 
the setting sun. Tiny wooded islands dot 
the bay, and through them and beyond 
stretches the lake itself, seemingly as bound- 
less as the ocean. 

The stage whereon "Hiawatha" was per- 
formed stood near the waters edge at the 
foot of a gentle slope sparsely grown with 
rugged trees and covered with a fabric of 
brown pine-needles entangled in the soft 
green grasses of the forest. This stage was 
erected about the base of a woodland giant, 
whose spreading arms threw a benedictory 
shadow over the redskin actors underneath. 
Here and there in the forest aisles were 
scattered wigwams, and beyond the platform, 
just where the placid waters kiss a narrow, 
glimmering ribbon of shore, a fleet of birch 

canoes grated nervously on the sand. The 
town of Desbarates occupies a central posi 
tion in the land of the Ojibways, which 
extends from Marquette, Michigan, on the 
west, to the Ottawa River some miles to the 

That "Hiawatha" might he dramatized was 
the suggestion of Mr, K O. Armstrong, of 
Montreal. He is an ethnologist of consider- 
able note, and it seemed to him that nothing 
could be more unique than to stage the poem 
and to train as actors the direct descendants 
of the Indians who furnished the basis for the 
story. Mr. Armstrong laid his plans before 
Mr. K M. West, a Boston artist and a lover 
of Indian tradition, and Mr. West received 
the proposition very enthusiastically. 

There were weary weeks of instruction 
before the participants approached success, 
but as the days went by perfection grew. 

About seventy-five Indians participated in 
the drama, but of this number only a few 
played prominent roles. In the beginning 
the actors seemed more or less embarrassed 
by the presence of the Ixmgfellows, but as 
the play progressed the embarrassment was 
lost in genuine enthusiasm. 

In the initial scene representatives from 
the tribes of every Indian nation assembled 
upon the platform in council of war. Almost 
hideous they were in their stripes of crimson 
war-paint, their garments of buckskin, and 
their armament. They approached the plat- 


s*.ii.'K i\r. 

by V_j 

iVt Hl*\ 1 F i * BACK * 


is dyfii€Miflia4rfronn iPh^^raph. 




form with that stealth and stolidity which 
history has long attributed to the redskin. 
Once there they formed a circle about the 
massive tree-trunk and engaged in an ani- 
mated discussion. 

Some twenty Indians participated in the 
council. Having indulged in a universal 
war-dance the delegates were addressed by 
Gitchie Manitou, the Great Spirit, who had 
caused the meeting to be summoned. He 
pleaded that peace might descend upon the 
tribes there represented, and so earnest and 
heartfelt were his words that at the close the 
Indians forthwith arose, and as one man 
stole down the .slope to the edge of the lake, 
where they washed the war-paint away. 

art of shooting. A group of his companions 
watched the proceedings keenly and showed 
approval^ when Hiawatha hit the mark, by 
clapping their hands and emitting guttural 
grunts of pleasure. The scene was rather 
short, but it was a pretty representation of a 
pretty incident in the poem. 

Hiawatha had grown to maturer years in 
the picture which followed. Meantime, he 
had made a journey to ihe distant Rocky 
Mountains and, returned, was engaged in 
describing to his tribesmen the incidents in 
his travels. He spoke of Minnehaha, the 
aged arrow-maker's daughter* and told of his 
intention to return again to the wigwam of her 
father in the days not far away, Hiawatha 

From a] 


Having in such a manner sworn allegiance 
10 the bond, the Indian file wound back 
again to the platform and squatted down to 
smoke the pipe of peace. One after another 
drew from the smouldering bowl a pufF of 
significant vapour, (slew it forth again, and 
passed the bricrwood to his neighbour Then 
the Indians left their places in preparation 
for the following scene. 

Here young Hiawatha made his entrance. 
A lad some eight or nine years old took the 
part of the hero With old Nokomis stand- 
ing near, the boy first set arrow to how string 
and received his initial instructions in the 

d oogle 

mapped out his journey with bits of charcoal 
on parchments of birch, and pictured his 
adventures mutely with rude illustrations. 

In the next scene Hiawatha was setting out 
on his second journey to the arrow-maker's 
tent, The old man's wigwam stood in one 
of the forest paths a few yards distant from 
the stage. This distance Hiawatha travelled, 
and having thus crossed the mountains 
safely he arrived once more at the home of 
his loved one. Minnehaha, "Laughing 
Water," stood near by in the doorway, and 
there the voung brave told his tale of love 
and devotion, ;n , ( 1 there he wooed and won 


I 12 


his redskin bride. Light and life and novelty 
brightened the wooing of the maiden, and 
the picture was one of the most charming of 

The wedding feast was celebrated after- 
wards in a manner almost startling. The 
strange, fantastic dances, doubly weird 
because of the participants, added greatly to 
the strength of the drama, First of all came 
the wedding dance itself, a bit of terpsichorean 
revelry at on re unique in conception and 
remarkable in execution. An aged squaw 
with an ugly-looking tomahawk zealously 
guarded a group of Indian maidens from the 

kneeling in a light canoe of birch. The 
Indians caught sight of the stranger and 
went immediately to greet him. He was 
taken to a wigwam near the water and ofifered 
refreshments, after which he went to the 
assembled tribesmen on the platform and 
addressed them in the Ojibway tongue. 

This scene was followed by the most 
charming of all. It was the climax of the 
drama, the last farewell of Hiawatha and his 

The sun was sinking to sleep down the 
western sky, and the shadows of the pine 
trees crept, almost imperceptibly, up the 



youthful warriors who would carry them away. 
One by one, however, the girls were stolen, 
despite the old woman's vigilant care and her 
ever-ready blows. 

The Deer dance followed. This was 
significant of plenty for Hiawatha and Min- 
nehaha. It may most aptly be described as 
a fast and furious Indian hornpipe. The 
Snake dance, intended to appease the evil 
spirits, was succeeded by the Gambling dance, 
a creation both strange and startling. 

In their dances the Ojibways scarcely lift 
their feet from the floor. They seem rather 
to glide about with an undulating motion 
which makes the watcher almost dizzy. 

In the following scene an English clergy- 
man, the Row Mr. Clark, took the part of 
the missionary. He came suddenly into 
view from around the rock-strewn point. 

grassy hillside. The islands on the thither 
shore were growing indistinct Afternoon 
was melting into night. 

Hiawatha walked forth from his com- 
panions, and told them boldly that he must 
go away, He spoke of the long miles ef 
travel before him, and of his absence about 
to begin. Then, taking his paddle, he 
descended the slope, stepped into his canoe, 
and waving a last farewell, glided down the 
dying pathway of the sunshine. 

Fixed, erect, immovable, he stood in the 
birchen craft as a statue on its pedestal, and 
with every moment the ribbon of sand receded 
more and more :■ — 

Westward, weal ward, Hiawatha 
Sailed in U» the fiery sunset, 
Sailed into tlie pmple vapors, 
Sailed into the dusk of evening* 


The strangest society in the United States, States of America, will be the scene of this 

the Meese Matrimonial Association, is now peculiar celebration. 

preparing for its great annual reunion, and The society is composed exclusively of 

within a few days Auburn, Indiana, United couples who have been married by the verier- 




able Rev. IV. L. Mcese, Its membership 
amounts to about six bund red, and it is 
constantly increasing. 

Pastor Meese founded this association, 
which is the only one of its kind in existence, 
arid the idea was entirely original with him. 

He can, perhaps, show a longer list of 
couples whom he has united than any other 
rector in the United States, and, proud of 
his record as a marrying parson, he conceived 
the novel idea of holding annual reunions, 
in which the happily married pairs might 
meet and be entertained. The reunion 
which took place in 1S99 was a decided 
success, many of the men and a few of 
the women giving humorous and serious 
impromptu addresses on " How to be Happy 
though Married," or like subjects. 

are always some music lovers and some 
musicians among the number, we will have 
instrumental and vocal selections* Un- 
doubtedly some of the couples will have 
matters or importance to tell us, and so the 
entertainment feature will go smoothly and 

" More important still, and a part of the 
day which is looked for expectantly, is 
the social It is then that the real fun 
commences and the true object of the 
Matrimonial Society is carried out Old 
friends who have not met since, perhaps, 
last year's reunion get together and talk over 
old times, reminiscences are exchanged, and 
a general good feeling is established. It is 
amusing to listen to some of the anecdotes 
which are related by the older couples, and 

From n] 



Mr. Meese said in discussing his work 
recently, "judge C A. Barnes, of Bryan, 
Ohio, a skilled orator, gave an entertaining 
address in 1899 on the subject, 'Is Marriage 
a Failure ? ' and after he had finished what 
proved to be an amusing speech, the question 
was left open to the three hundred couples, 
and a lively debate ensued, in which much 
good-humoured banter was exchanged, but 
which ended in the question being decided 
in favour of the negative, all agreeing that 
marriage was not a failure. 

"This meeting of the Matrimonial Asso- 
ciation was so successful that all voted to 
hold another reunion in 1900. This we 
expect to do* Notices have already been 
sent out, and I have received several hundreds 
of letters of acceptance, and expect as many 
more before the time of the celebration. 

"Several well-known speakers will deliver 
addresses on subjects of interest, and as there 

Vol, **i.~15 



the experiences of the younger ones are 
equally funny. 

" It is an excellent opportunity for 
character-study, but that is aside from the 
question. I like to have the friends, the 
making of whose lives I have had a finger in, 
about me, and I believe the young as well as 
the old derive benefit from the meetings. 
Many practical suggestions are given by 
experienced housekeepers to the young wives 
just entering upon married life. 

i( The father of five or six children, too, 
can frequently give good advice to the young 
bridegroom who has just commenced to 
learn that life has its ups and downs. 

" It is at the big dinner, though, that my 
several hundred friends begin to reap the 
benefit of the gathering. After all, there is 
nothing like a good dinner to make people 
become friendly, and over the viands which 
have been prepared by skilled hands many 

Original from 



pathetic stories, nearly all of which have a 
humorous side, are told of the failures of the 
first few months of housekeeping, and the sting 
which these queer mishaps ofttimes leaves 
is laughed away at the big reunion dinner. 

11 1 have had couples nearing the three- 
score years and ten mark come to me after 
the meeting to express their thanks far the 
event which has seemed to lift the weight of 
years off their lives. Yes, I think that I can 
confidently say that from every point my 
Matrimonial Association has been a decided 

success, and I expect these reunions to bear 
fruit long after I am dead." 

Mr. Meese was born in Ohio, where he 
worked on the Ohio Canal until 1855, when 
he moved to De Kalb County, Indiana. In 
1872 he was elected by the Republican 
party as sheriff; and in 1874 he was re-elected 
by that party to the same office. For many 
years he has been a respected and successful 
pastor in De Kalb County, and his Matri- 
monial Society has united him more closely 
than ever to the people. 


By M, F. Toler. 

The fairs of the United States, large and 
small, make their exhibitions more attractive 
by adding special features to the usual racing 
and agricultural programmes, such as diving 
elks and horses, trotting dogs and ostriches. 
The accompanying picture represents two 
racing mares, Humming Bird and Nan 
Wilkes, with dog -drivers. This novelty 

where the dogs dismount, take the lead-straps 
with their teeth, and lead their charges back, 
to head-quarters. As the crowds cheer their 
approval the canine drivers evince an almost 
human appreciation of the applause, and wag 
their tails as if thanking the spectators for 
the ovation. 

Nan Wilkes and Humming Bird are 


Fram a Photoprtitih.. 

appears on the race-course, each horse 
being led by its respective dog- driver, 
Rex and Max. Arriving at the stand 
they mount their sulkies without assist- 
ance, and, reins in mouth, proceed to 
jog back to the starting flag, when, at the 
sound of the bell, they turn and come down 
the course in racehorse style. Another tap 
of the bell brings them back to the stand, 

by Google 

chestnuts in colour, equally matched as to 
gait and speed, rarely making a mistake, and 
they finish closely at a high rate of speed. 
The dogs are brown spaniels, and exceed- 
ingly intelligent in every way. The outfit 
belongs to AJr. Fred Spoerhase, of New 
Ulm, Minnesota, and is decorated very 
tastefully, the attendants wearing handsome 

Original from 




The most valuable cat in the world 
belongs to Mrs, Charles Weed, of Bound 
Brook, New Jersey. It is a superb French 
Angora, and five thousand dollars would not 
suffice to buy him. 

Napoleon the First is the name of the 
famous cat, and, being worth double his weight 
in gold, appropriately enough Napoleon's 
silken coat is of the richest golden hue* 

The five-thousand-dollar beauty occupies 
luxurious apartments, which would not have 
disgraced the famous Emperor himself, and 
unlike that great soldier this Napoleon has 
never felt the stings of defeat, having easily 
outclassed all his brothers and sisters at the 
many shows in which he has participated. 

Mrs. Weed is very much attached to 
"Nap/' and said, while exhibiting him re- 
cently : " I have had a number of valuable 
cats, but none which have won the laurels of 
Napoleon. He is a 
remarkably easy cat 
to get along with, too, 
and is as proud of his 
medals as any vete- 
ran. Although large 
he is well propor- 
tioned, and unlike 
so many petted cats 
has not an idle bone 
in his body ; indeed, 
he is as good a ratter 
as any ordinary cat 
who can't trace his 
lineage back along a 
line of royalty. 

" Nap's worst fault is jealousy. He will 
sulk for hours at a time and refuse to be 
comforted if 1 caress or fondle another puss, 
and frequently if I devote my attention to 
the stranger for any length of time Napoleon 
will cry to go out, and when the door is 
opened will leave the room with his head 
held proudly erect and without deigning to 
give so much as a glance in my direction. I 
have known him to remain away from home 
for a whole day when I offended him in this 

" Napoleon is very easily fed, and although 
he will eat a great variety of food, his principal 
diet is milk, oatmeal, and a little meat. The 
latter I cut in very small pieces for him or 
else leave on the bone, and I only give him 
this luxury at noon. 

"In the summer he will eat potatoes and 
beans if well seasoned and buttered. 

" He has been 
exhibited at many 
large shows and has 
always won the first 
prize given to An- 
goras, for his beauty, 
intelligence, and 

" I have been 
offered five thousand 
dollars for him, 
double his weight in 
gold, but I wouldn't 
part with Nap for 
any amount of 


Ft tret a Pfcolo. hg Harding lirooklitn. 

by Google 

Original from 


[ We shaU bt glad to receive Confribuii&m to this section, and to pap for such as are atceflttd] 


Mr. C. Horace Knapp, 
of Auburn, New York, 
semis a photograph which 
is of special interest not 
only to our readers but to 
ourselves also. It is a 
copy of a snap-shot taken 
by a child oF eight years 
of her father reading a 
copy of The Strand 
Magazine on hoard one 
of the steamers on Lake 
Ontario. When asked how 
she managed it, the little 
girl said: *'Of course he 
never saw rue take it ! " 
For our jiarl we may 
perhaps t« excused if we 
are more gratified than 
surprised at anyone being 
so deeply i nitres led in the 
pages of The Strand as 
to he completely oblivious 
of whatever may happen 
to pass around him. 


This knife, which con- 
tains J&4 blades, was made 
under very peculiar cir 

hoard, a convict ship at 
Q u ee n st< >w n + 1 1 w as d li r - 
ing his confinement in the 
vessel l hat he made this 
penknife, which was in- 
tended to l>e presented 
to the Lord Lieutenant , 
and which has since 
been exhibited in Paris, 
London, Dublin, and 
Edinburgh^ The photo- 
graph of this remark- 
a I »le piece of workman- 
ship wEis sent to us by 
Mi. JAW. Hill, of Roche's 
Street, Limerick. 

A fisherman named 
'William flour n whilst 
fishing off Folkestone in 
September last hooked 
a kettle containing two 
crabs, which had evi- 
dently craw letl into it 
when young and grown 
too large to make their 
c\ll, and could only \x 
released by making the 
opening of the kettle 
larger* At the lime 
of writing Mr. Joseph Thomas^ 
of 29, Tontine Street , Folkestone, 
said that both ihe kettle and 
contents were on view at the Ship 
Inn, Folkestone j propiietor, Mr. 
Richard Page* 

eu instances. The maker, who was a man named Hayes, 
an employ*? of Colgan, culler, limerick, in the year i&jq. 
made a dagger for presentation lo a friend. On arriving 
at the house in which the presentation was to lake 
place he found a row going on, in which the friend was 
engaged, and on going to his assistance he used the 
dagger on one of his assailants, killing him instantly. 1 [e 
was arrested and convicted; but through his employer's 
influence he escaped the extreme penalty of the law, 
and was condemned to a term of imprisonment on 


(Copyright, i*>i, 

jjpyrigtu, !$>],_ by IJtorgt (ftwnc, [-©(tp^jnal frOITI 




Mr. W. R. Tilton, of Prairie Depot, O., 
sends the next photo., which is rather a remark- 
able Currosily, It is the portrait of a cat riding 
upon the back of a game rooster. It appears 
that a certain amount of difficulty was experi- 
enced in the taking of so unique a snapshot ! 

We have before us one of the most etuious 
photographs which it has ever been our lot to 
come across. At first glance it represents what 
it really is t a section of a turret in the well- 
known works of the Lehigh Steel Cu + in 
Pennsylvania, with shot-marks about Sin* in 
diameter and a^im to 3m, in depth. We also 
see that the thick steel turret is dotted with 
many rivets, and that the turret shown is about 
30ft, high, judging from the size of the bicycle 
lying close b>\ Now let us look at the snot- 
marks on the surface of the steel. Nine in- 
dentations are plainly visible, as if the steel 
had been a yielding substance like dough, and the 
thumb of man had been impressed therein. The 

turning operation may 

and the same result 

I h; continued indefinitely* 
always ensues — an optical 
illusion of an extra- 
ordinary order, 
only explainable, we 
Indieve, by the scien- 
tific rules of light and 
shadow, The photo, 
has reached us from 
the Woodland Studio, 
4, £28, West Avenue, 
Philadelphia, Penn- 


Mr. Frank H. 
Jtftree, of 67, Trinity 
Road, Wimbledon, 
says: "I have 
executed the envelope 
which carries this 
letter ; it may lie 
interesting to yo:i 
for your Curiosilies/' 
The envelope in 
question reached us 
quite safely. To 
read 5t, hold the page 
level with the eyes* 

rivets stand boldly 
out. We ask each 
of our readers 
to Look at this 
illustration for a 
moment, and then 
suddenly to turn 
the page upside 
down. Presto, 
change! Out 
come the shot 
marks like warts 
upon the surface of 
the steel, and in the 
twinkling of an eye 
the rivet marks In- 
come indentations 
on the surface. The 

by CiC 


Original from 



Oneoi Ihe first things Tommy 
thought of when imprisoned by 
the Boers was to knit a scarf or 
shawl to send home to his wile 
or sweetheart. The piece of 
knitting shown in the photo- 
graph is an unfinished com- 
forter, tubular in form, and 
done on six needles. The 
colours, which were very bright, 
form an Eastern -looking pattern j red, green, blue, and black 
are all present in this particular specimen, The wool was 
obtained by bribing a friendly Boer, but tbe knitting-needles 
were Tommy 'a own inn mi fact Lire, being simply steel wire — from 
the barricades by which he was surrounded — cut or broken in so 
the required lengths, the ends being rounded by the primitive 
method of rubbing them upon a stone* The chessmen were 

found amongst a " lot of little things, " dice, marbles, counters, 
etc. , by a parly of Scots Guards sent to break down the huts at 
Watered, after the release of the British prisoners, They wt-re 
made from the fuel supplied by the Boers for culinary purposes. 
A pocket-knife was the only tool used in their man u fact u re, 
and one half of the pieces were painted red, We at home 
who know how hard was (he lot of the captive cannot fail to 
admire the spirit which inspired him t amidst such depressing 
surroundings, to fashion ingenious playthings. We aro indebted 
for the accompanying photo- to Air. Sutherland Walker, Ulles- 
thorpc Villa, 1'alsgrave, Scarborough. 

The interesting photograph that follows shows the ringing of 
the bells of St, Peter's, Pietermarhzburg, on the receipt of the 
news of the relief of Ladysmith* As will be seen, the bells are 
placed in a tree instead of in a steeple. This interesting 
contribution is sent by Miss K. M, Kitten, The Croft, Rod way 
Road, Bromley, Kent. 


The Stone Sails of Guada- 
lupe, a photograph of which 
we reproduce herewith, are de- 
scribed by Mr. Arthur Inker- 
sley, 508, Montgomery Street, 
San Francisco, Cab, as follows : 
* ( AI)out two miles to the east 
of the City of Mexico is the 
village of Guadalupe* where, at 

1 ^JM^^I 

* fcFr 

f fw 

4* M **■''. 

t '■■■ 


****** 1 

1 - * ^_ __j^^A^__ ' 


ihe foot of the hill of Tepcyacac, is a 
handsome church in In an air of the 
Virgin of Guadalupe. On the sum nut 
of the hill, to which a series of stone 
steps leads, is a chajiel named *The 
Chapel of the Little Hill/ Half-way 
up to the chapel is a most remarkable 
monument in stone and mortar, repre- 
senting the foremast of a full -rigged ship* 
The monument was erected by a sailor, 
who, being caught in a storm at sea, 
vowed that, if he reached land safely, 
be would huitd a stone ship to the glory 
of the Virgin. Either his funds ran 
short r jr bis gratitude for his escape grew 
less, for he got no farther in the con- 
struction of the ship than the foremast, 
the sails and reef-points, all of which 
are realistically reproduced. This is 
probably the only emgy in stone of part 
of a ship in natural size." The photo- 
graph 13 by Scott, of Guanajuato, 

Original from 



The Westchester County Agricultural Society has 
gained the honour of having, at its recent exhibit, 
one of the most unique and appropriate of attractions* 
It consisted of a lower of fruit and vegetables as 
shown in the accompanying photograph. The 
design of this tower of fruit shows* m^re than artistic 
skill. Each panel or circle had to l*e constructed 
with relation to its neighbour in size, shape, and 
colour, and it was 
Juost successfully 
tecum piished. . It 
must have required 
a great amount of 
thought and consider- 
ahle patience in its 
building* The neat 
designs on the liase 
were made oi various 
nuts, while on the 
ledges and corners 
can he seen the 
squash, citron, and 
othei large products 
of the field. The 
circle of small cab- 
bages at the base of 
the column is quite 
noticeable* and 
apples played a pro- 
minent part in the 
decoration. Other 
hwd fruits were also 
used. The upper 

portion or capital of the column was built of grain, 
and above all rose a flag- pole* Photograph sent by 
Mr. II. L. Varian, of Mount Vernon, New York* 


Here is a photograph illustrating a curious tragedy in 

beetle life. This beetle, being perhaps short-sighted, 

flew on to a spike of a fence of barbed wire. It is 

not the work of the butcher bird, as the victim had no 

companions, and was untouched for about a week, "hen 
a spider found it \ also, its position was horizontal, as 
it w r ould be in flight. Mr, T. K* Evans, 7, Clarendon 
Villas, Oxford, is responsible for this contribution, 

Lieutenant A. K. Ru*ton, of ILM*S* Areihttsa^ 
China Station, writes: '* I inclose the following 
photograph, taken by mo at Comox, Vancouver Island, 
B.C* ; it shows a handy man's roadway when no 
other material was available, and is a good example 
of Ehe handy man's ingenuity. The spit on which 
this rifle range is built consists of deep, loose sand, 
e.\cept for the two plots of grass in the photo., and, 
no stones or limber being available, a large number 
of condemned boiler - lubes w h ere brought from 
Ksquimauli Dockyard and laid down* The whole 
range, houses, butts, and firing points, etc., were 
built by Jack. A rough estimate in round numbers 
of the tx>iler-lulH;s is about 150,000." 

by Google 

Original from 



Mr. C. Cozens, 66, Somer's Koad, South sea, sends 
an interesting and prelly picture of his little daughter 
landing upright in the hollow shell of a 135 naval 
pun, where the bursting charge usually goes. The 
photo, was taken while mi a visit to Whale Island by 
Mr. C. Cozens, Southsea. 

At the summit of Chatham Hill stands the vast 
unfinished building known as J tercel's Temple, a 
hideous mass of bricks and scaffold -poles erected by a 
fanatical sect with more ambition than wealth or 
brains. Their leader was a man named While, who 
called himself James Jershom Jezreel, and among the 
articles of their faith was thu belief that no member 
of the sect would die. Naturally, on the death of 
White the sect practically collapsed. In September, 

i8t7, this curious tower, " for the housing of 144,000 
persons who were not to taste death," was offered for 
sale at Tokenhouse Yard, the auctioneer remarking, 
according 10 the daily papers, with what must have 
been a touch of sarcasm, that the building would do 
equally well for a brewery or a lunatic asylum. Photo, 
kindly sent by Mr. S.J. Urowtie, 51, Stilehall Gardens, 
C his wick. 


The accompanying photograph is sent by Mr. 

M. A. Reasoncr, M.D., Morrisonville, HI-, and 

was taken by Mr. W, H. Beck, at Auborn, a little 

village not far distant. It shows a balloon in the act 

of ascent ; beneath this, one of the assistants entangled 
and suspended in the ropes, and beneath him the tcip 
of the parachute. The balloon was filled and released 
at the proper time, but in some manner the assistant 
on ihe inside became caught in one oflhe ropes, nnd, 
to the horror of a thousand spectators, was 
carried swiftly upward, struggling all the 
lime to escape from the loop which held 
him, to fall to a certain death. Suddenly 
he noticed that hi* weight on one of the 
ropes was causing the balloon to turn ovifr, 
so he changed his tactics and, swinging 
in, caught the opposite rope, lifted himself 
to an upright position, and ascended until 
his form could not t>e distinguished. The 
aeronaut had released the parachute a little 
precipitately, and aver let I an otherwise 
serious accident by landing in a cherry 
tree, The balloon, at the end of its 
descent, landed gently over a mile distant, 
and its passenger, except for a few sera to lies 
on his leg, was no more than frighlened. 
An Italian miner, seeing him align! , came 
out with a shot-gun, but was persuaded 
inn to use it. 

by Google 

Original from 


p rtnfJ f , Original from 



{Stt fia$t 124,) 

by Google 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xxi. 

FEBRUARY, 1901. 

No. 122. 

The Goddess of Excelsior. 

By Bret Harte. 

HEN the two solitary mining 
companies encamped on Syca- 
more Creek both discovered 
on the same day the great 
" Excelsior Lead " they met 
around a neutral camp-fire with 
that grave and almost troubled demeanour 
which distinguished the successful prospector 
in those days. Perhaps the term " prospec- 
tors " could hardly be used for men who 
had laboured patiently and light-heartedly 
in the one spot for over three years to 
gain a daily yield from the soil which gave 
them barely the necessaries of life. Perhaps 
this was why, now that their reward was 
beyond their most sanguine hopes, they 
mingled with this characteristic gravity an 
ambition and resolve peculiarly their own. 
Unlike most successful miners, they had no 
idea of simply realizing their wealth and 
departing to invest or spend it elsewhere, as 
was the common custom. On the contrary, 
that night they formed a high resolve to 
stand or fall by their claims ; to develop the 
resources of the locality, to build up a town, 
and to devote themselves to its growth and 
welfare. And to this purpose they bound 
themselves that night by a solemn and legal 

Many circumstances lent themselves to so 
original a determination. The locality was 
healthful, picturesque, and fertile. Sycamore 
Creek, a considerable tributary of the Sacra- 
mento, furnished them a generous water supply 
at all seasons ; its banks were well wooded 
and interspersed with undulating meadow- 
land. Its distance from stage-coach com- 
munication — nine miles — could easily be 
abridged by a waggon road over a practically 
level country. Indeed, all the conditions for 
a thriving settlement were already there. It 
was natural, therefore, that the most sanguine 
finticipations were indulged by the more 

youthful of the twenty members of this sacred 
compact. The sites of an hotel, a bank, the 
Express Company's office, stage office, and 
Court House, with other necessary buildings, 
were all mapped out and supplemented by a 
theatre, a public park, and a terrace along 
the river bank ! It was only when Clinton 
Grey, an intelligent but youthful member, 
on offering a plan of the town with five 
avenues 80ft. wide, radiating from a central 
plaza and the Court House, explained 
that " it could be commanded by artillery 
in case of an armed attack upon the 
building," that it was felt that a line 
must be drawn in anticipatory suggestion. 
Nevertheless, although their determination 
was unabated, at the end of six months 
little had been done beyond the building of 
a waggon road and the importation of new 
machinery for the working of the lead. The 
peculiarity of their design debarred any 
tentative or temporary efforts; they wished 
the whole settlement to spring up in equal 
perfection, so that the first stage coach over 
the new road could arrive upon the com- 
pleted town. "We don't want to show up 
in a 'biled shirt' and a plug hat, and our 
trousers stuck in our boots," said a figurative 
speaker. Nevertheless, practical necessity 
compelled them to build the hotel first for 
their own occupation, pending the erection 
of their private dwellings on allotted sites. 
The hotel — a really elaborate structure for 
the locality and period — was a marvel to 
the workmen and casual teamsters. It was 
luxuriously fitted and furnished. Yet it was 
in connection with this outlay that the event 
occurred which had a singular effect upon 
the fancy of the members. 

Washington Trigg, a Western member who 
had brought up the architect and builder 
from San Francisco, had returned in a state 
of excitement. He had seen at an art exhj- 




bition in lhat city a small replica of a famous 
statue Of California, and, without consulting 
his fellow-members, had ordered a larger 
copy for the new settlement He, how- 
ever, made up for his precipitancy by an 
extravagant description of his purchase, 
which impressed even the most cautious, 
" It's the figger of a mighty pretty girl, 
in them spirit clothes they alius wear, 
holding a divinin' rod for findin' gold 
afore her in one hand ; all the while 
she's hidin' behind her, in the other 
hand, a branch o' thorns out of sight. The 
idea bein' — don't you see? — that blamed 
old 'forty miners like us, or ordinary green- 
horns, ain't allowed to see the difficulties 
they've got to go through before reaching a 
strike. Mighty cute, ain't it ? It's to be 
made life-size — that is, about the size of a girl 
of that kind — don't you see ? " he explained, 
somewhat vaguely ; " and will look powerful 
fetchin' standin' on to a pedestal in the hall of 
the hotel." In reply to some further cautious 
inquiry as to the exact details of the raiment 
and of any possible shock to the modesty of 
lady guests at the hotel, he replied, confi- 
dently, " Oh, tliat s all right ! It's the regula- 
tion uniform of goddesses and angels — 
sorter* as if they'd caught up a sheet or a 
cloud to fling round 'em before coming into 
this world afore folks ; and being an allegory, 
so to speak, it ain't as if it was me or you 
prospectin' in high water. And, being of 
bronze, it " 

" Looks like a squaw, eh ? " interrupted a 
critic, " or a cursed Chinaman ? " 

14 And if it's of metal, it will weigh a ton ! 
How are we going to get it up here?" said 

But here Mr. Trigg was on sure ground. 
11 I've ordered it cast holler, and, if neces- 
sary, in two sections," he returned, triumph- 
antly. " A child could tote it round and set 
it up." 

Its arrival was therefore looked forward to 
with great expectancy when the hotel was 
finished and occupied by the combined 
Excelsior companies. It was to come from 
New York viA San Francisco, where, how- 
ever, there was some delay in its tranship- 
ment, and still further delay at Sacramento. 
It finally reached the settlement over the 
new waggon road, and was among the first 
freight carried there by the new Express 
Company, and delivered into the new Express 
office. The box — a packing - case, nearly 
3ft. square by 5ft. long— bore superficial 
marks of travel and misdirection, inasmuch 
as the original address was quite obliterated 

Digitized by IjK 

and the outside lid covered with corrected 
labels. It was carried to a private sitting- 
room in the hotel, where its beauty was to be 
first disclosed to the President of the United 
Companies, three of the committee, and the 
excited and triumphant purchaser. A less 
favoured crowd of members and workmen 
gathered curiously outside the room. Then 
the lid was carefully removed, revealing a 
quantity of shavings and packing paper which 
still hid the outlines of the goddess. V\ hen 
this was promptly lifted a stare of blank 
astonishment fixed the faces of the party ! 
It was succeeded by a quick, hysteric laugh, 
and then a dead silence. 

Before them lay a dressmaker's dummy — 
the wire and padded model on which dresses 
are fitted and shown. With its armless and 
headless bust, abruptly ending in a hooped 
wire skirt, it completely filled the sides of 
the box. 

"Shut the door," said the President, 

The order was obeyed. The single 
hysteric shriek of laughter had been followed 
by a deadly ironical silence. The President 
with supernatural gravity lifted it out and set 
it up on its small, round, disc-like pedestal. 

44 It's some cussed fool blunder of that 
confounded Express Company," burst out the 
unlucky purchaser. But there was no echo 
to his outburst. He looked around with a 
timid, tentative smile. But no ether smile 
followed his. 

44 It looks," said the President, with por- 
tentous gravity, 44 like the beginnings of a 
fine woman, that might show up, if you gave 
her time, into a first - class goddess. Of 
course she ain't all here ; other boxes with 
sections of her, I reckon, are under way from 
her factory, and will meander along in the 
course of the year. Considerin' this as a 
sample — I think, gentlemen," he added, with 
gloomy precision, 44 we are prepared to accept 
it, and signify we'll take more." 

44 It ain't, perhaps, exactly the idee that 
we've been led to expect from previous 
description," said Dick Flint, with deeper 
seriousness ; 4t for instance, this yer branch 
of thorns we heard of ez bein' held behind 
her is wantin' ; as is the arms that held it ; 
but even if they had arrived, anybody could 
see the thorns through them wires and so 
give the hull show away." 

44 Jam it into its box again, and we'll send 
it back to the confounded Express Company 
with a cussin' letter," again thundered the 
wretched purchaser. 

41 No, sonny/' said the President, with 




gentle but gloomy determination, " we'll 
fasten on to this little show jest as it is, and 
see what follows. It ain't every day that a 
first class sell like this is worked off on us 
nccidtn tally' 1 

It was quite true! The settlement had 
long since exhausted every possible form of 
practical joking and languished for a new 
sensation. And here it was! I? was not a 
thing to he 
treated angrily, 
nor lightly, nor 
dismissed with 
that single hys- 
teric laugh. It 
was capable of 
the greatest 
posstbj lities ! 
Indeed, as 
Trigg looked 
around on the 
ironical faces of 
his companions 
he knew that 
they felt more 
true joy over the 
blunder than 
they would in 
the possession of 
the real statue. 
But an exclama- 
tion from the 
fifth member, 
who was exami- 
ning the box, 
arrested their 

s u t h i n ' else 
here ! " 

He had found 
under the hea- 
vier wrapping a 
layer of tissue- 
paper, and 
under that a 

further envelope of linen, lightly stitched 
together* A knife blade quickly separated 
the stitches, and the linen was carefully un- 
folded. It displayed a beautifully trimmed 
evening dress of pale blue satin, with a 
dressing-gown of some exquisite white fabric 
armed with lace. The men gazed at it in 
silence— and then the one single expression 
broke from their lips : — 

"Her duds!" 

"Stop, boys," said "Clint" Grey, as a 

Digitized by LiOOQ IC 

movement was made to lift the dress towards 
the model, "leave that to a man who knows. 
Whats the use of my having left five 
grown-up sisters in the States if I haven't 
brought a little experience away with me? 
This sort of thing ain't to be s pulled on' 
like trousers. No, sir \ — thi$ is the way she's 

With considerable dexterity, unexpected 

gentleness, and 
some taste, he 
shook out the 
folds of the 
skirt delicately 
and lifted it over 
the d u m m y ; 
settling it skil- 
fully upon the 
wire hoops, and 
drawing the 
bodice over the 
padded shoul- 
ders. This he 
then proceeded 
to fasten, with 
hooks and eyes 
— a work of 
some patience. 
Y o r t y eager 
fingers stretched 
out to assist 
him, but were 
waved aside, 
with a look of 
pained decorum 
as he gravely 
completed his 
task. Then, 
falling hack, he 
hade the others 
do the same, 
and they formed 
a contemplative 
semicircle before 
the figure. 

Up to that 
moment a de- 
lighted but 
unsmiling consciousness of their own ab- 
surdities, a keen sense of the humorous 
possibilities of the original blunder, and a 
mischievous recognition of the mortification 
of Trigg — whose only safety now lay in 
accepting the mistake in the same spirit — 
had determined these grown- up schoolboys 
to artfully protract a joke that seemed to be 
providentially delivered into their hands. 
But tittv an odd change crept on them. The 
light from the ^^w window that gave upon 




the enormous pines and the rolling prospect 
up to the dim heights of the Sierras fell 
upon this strange, incongruous, yet perfectly 
artistic figure. For the dress was the skilful 
creation of a great Parisian artist, and in its 
exquisite harmony of colour, shape, and 
material it not only hid the absurd model, 
but clothed it with an alarming grace and 
refinement ! A queer feeling of awe, of 
shame, and of unwilling admiration took 
possession of them. Some of them — from 
remote Western towns — had never seen the 
like before ; those who had had forgotten it 
in those five years of self-exile, of healthy in- 
dependence, and of contiguity to Nature in 
her unaffected simplicity. All had been 
familiar with the garish, extravagant, and 
dazzling femininity of the Californian towns 
and cities, but never had they known anything 
approaching the ideal grace of this type of 
exalted — even if artificial — womanhood. 
And although in the fierce freedom of their 
little Republic they had laughed to scorn 
such artificiality, a few yards of satin and 
lace cunningly fashioned, and thrown over a 
frame of wood and wire, touched them now 
with a strange sense of its superiority. The 
better to show its attractions, Clinton Grey 
had placed the figure near a full-length, 
gold-framed mirror, beside a marble-topped 
table. Yet how cheap and tawdry these 
splendours showed beside this work of art ! 
How cruel was the contrast of their own 
rough working clothes to this miracle of 
adornment which that same mirror reflected ! 
And even when Clinton Grey, the enthusiast, 
looked towards his beloved woods for relief, 
he could not help thinking of them as a more 
fitting frame for this strange goddess than 
this new house into which she had strayed. 
Their gravity became real ; their gibes in 
some strange way had vanished. 

" Must have cost a pile of money," said 
one, merely to break an embarrassing silence. 

" My sister had a friend who brought over 
a dress from Paris, not as high-toned as that, 
that cost five hundred dollars," said Clinton 

" How much did you say that spirit-clad 
old hag of yours cost— thorns and all? " said 
the President, turning sharply on Trigg. 

Trigg swallowed this depreciation of his 
own purchase meekly, " Seven hundred and 
fifty dollars, without the express charges." 

"That's only two-fifty more," said the 
President, thoughtfully, " if we call it quits." 

" But," said Trigg, in alarm, " we must 
send it back." 

"Not much, sonny/' said the President, 

Digitized by K*i 

promptly. " We'll hang on to this until we 
hear where that thorny old chump of yours 
has fetched up and is actin' her conundrums 
— and mebbe we can swap even." 

" But how will we explain it to the boys ? " 
queried Trigg. " They're waitin' outside to 
see it." 

"There won't be any explanation," said 
the President, in the same tone of voice in 
which he had ordered the door shut. " We'll 
just say that the statue hasn't come — which 
is the frozen truth; and this box only con- 
tained some silk curtain decorations we'd 
ordered — which is only half a lie. And," 
still more firmly, " this secret doesn't go 
out of this room, gentlemen — or I ain't your 
President ! I'm not going to let you give 
yourselves away to that crowd outside — 
you hear me? Have you ever allowed 
your unfettered intellect to consider what 
they'd say about this — what a godsend 
it would be to every man we'd ever had 
a ' pull f on in this camp ? Why, it 
would last 'em a whole year — we'd never 
hear the end of it ! No, gentlemen ! I 
prefer to live here without shootin' my fellow- 
man, but I can't promise it if they once start 
this joke agin us ! " 

There was a swift approval of this senti- 
ment, and the five members shook hands 

" Now," said the President, " we'll just fold 
up that dress again, and put it with the figure 
in this closet " — he opened a large dressing- 
chest in the suite of rooms in which they 
stood — "and we'll each keep a key. We'll 
retain this room for committee purposes, so 
that no one need see the closet. See ? Now 
take off the dress ! — be careful there ! You're 
not handlin' pay dirt, though it's about as 
expensive ! — steady ! " 

Yet it was wonderful to see the solicitude 
and care with which the dress was recovered 
and folded in its linen wrapper. 

" Hold on," exclaimed Trigg, as the 
dummy was lifted into the chest ; " we 
haven't tried on the other dress ! " 

" Yes ! yes ! " repeated the others, eagerly ; 
" there's another ! " 

"We'll keep that for next committee 
meeting, gentlemen," said the President, 
decisively. " Lock her up, Trigg." 

The three following months wrought a won- 
derful change in Excelsior— wonderful even in 
that land of rapid growth and progress. Their 
organized and matured plans, executed by a 
full force of workmen from the county town, 
completed the twenty cottages for th^ 




members, the bank, and the Town I lull- 
Visitors and intending settlers flocked over 
the new waggon road to see this new Utopia, 
whose founders, holding the land and its 
improvements as a corporate company, 
exercised the right of dictating the terms on 
which settlers were admitted The feminine 
invasion was not yet potent enough to affect 
their consideration, either through any refine 
ment or attractiveness, being comprised chiefly 
of the industrial wives and 
daughters of small traders or 
temporary artisans. Yet it was 
found necessary to confide the 
hole! to the management of 
Mr. Dexter Marsh, his wife, 
and one intelligent, but some- 
what plain, daughter, who 
looked after the accounts. 
There were occasional lady 
visitors at the hotel, attracted 
from the neighbouring towns 
:md settlements by its pic- 
turesqueness and a vague 
su^gestiveness of its being a 
watering- place— and there was 
the occasional flash in the 
decorous street of a Sacra- 
mento or San Francisco gown. 
It is needless to say that to 
the five men who held the 
guilty secret of Committee 
Room No. 4 it only strength- 
ened their belief in the super- 
elegance of their hidden trea- 
sure- At their last meeting 
they had fitted the second 
dress — which turned out to 
be a vapoury, summer house- 
frock or morning- wrapper- 
over the dummy, and opinions 
were divided as to its equality 
with the first. However, the 
same subtle harmony of detail 
and grace of proportion 
characterized it. 

"And you see," said Clint Grey, " it's 
jest the sort o' rig in which a man would be 
most likely to know her — and not in her war- 
paint, which would be only now and then." 

Already "she" had become an individuality! 

" Hush ! " said the President. He had 
turned towards the door, at which someone 
was knocking lightly. 

"Come in." 

The door opened upon Miss Marsh, 
secretary and hotel-assistant. She had a 
business aspect and an open letter in her 
hand — but hesitated at the evident confusion 

Digitized by l^OOglV 

she had occasioned. Two of the gentlemen 
had absolutely blushed, and the others 
regarded her with inane smiles or affected 
seriousness. They all coughed slightly, 

" I beg your pardon," she said, not un- 
gracefully, a slight colour coming into her 
sallow cheek which, in conjunction with the 
gold eye-glasses, gave her, at least in the eyes 
of the impressible Clint, a certain piquancy. 
" Hut my lather said you were here in coni- 


mittee and I might consult you I can come 
again — if you are busy." 

She had addressed the President, partly 
from his office, his comparatively extreme 
age — he must have been at least thirty . — - 
and possibly for his extremer good looks. 
He said, hurriedly, "It's just an informal 
meeting," and then, more politely, "What can 
we do for you ? " 

" We have an application for a suite of 
rooms next week," she said, referring to the 
letter, "and as we shall be rather full, father 
thought you £cm!ern?n might be willing to 




take another larger room for your meetings, 
and give up these which are part of a suite — 
and perhaps not exactly suitable " 

"Quite impossible!" "Quite so!" "Really 
out of the question," said the members, in a 
rapid chorus. 

The young girl was evidently taken aback 
at this unanimity of opposition. She stared 
at them curiously, and then glanced around 
the room. u We're quite comfortable here," 
said the President, explanatorily, "and — in 
fact — it's just what we want." 

" We could give you a closet like that 
which you could lock up — and a mirror," 
she suggested, with the faintest trace of a 

" Tell your father, Miss Marsh," said the 
President, with dignified politeness, "that 
while we cannot submit to any change, we 
fully appreciate his business foresight, and 
are quite prepared to see that the hotel is 
properly compensated for our retaining these 
rooms." As the young girl withdrew with a 
puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed 
his back against it, and said : — 

"What the deuce did she mean by 
speaking of that closet ? " 

" Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy 
drinks in them," said Trigg ; " and calkilated 
that we wanted the marble stand and mirror 
to put our glasses on and make it look like a 
swell private bar, that's all ! " 

" Humph," said the President. 

Their next meeting, however, was a hur- 
ried one, and as the President arrived late, 
when the door closed smartly behind him 
he was met by the worried faces of his 

" Here's a go ! " said Trigg, excitedly, 
producing a folded paper. "'I he game's up, 
the hull show is busted ; that cussed old 
statue — the reg'lar old hag herself — is on 
her way here ! There's a bill o' lading and 
the Express Company's letter, and she'll be 
trundling down here by express at any 

"Well?" said the President, quietly. 

"Well!" repeated the members, aghast. 
" Do you know what that means ? " 

"That we must rig her up in the hall on a 
pedestal, as we reckoned to do," returned 
the President, coolly. 

" But you don't sate" said Clinton Grey ; 
" that's all very well as to the hag — but now 
we must give her up," with an adoring glance 
towards the closet. 

" Does the letter say so ? " 

" No," said Trigg, hesitatingly ; " no ! But 
I reckon we can't keep do/A" 

" Why not ? " said the President, imper- 
turbably, " if we paid for 'em ? " 

As the men only scared in reply he con- 
descended to explain : — 

" Look here ! I calculated all these risks 
after our last meeting. While you boys were 
just fussin' round, doin' nothing, I wrote to 
the Express Company that a box of women's 
damaged duds had arrived here, while we 
were looking for our statue ; that you chaps 
were so riled at bein' sold by chem that you 
dumped the whole blamed thing in the creek. 
But I added, if they'd let me know what the 
damage was, I'd send 'em a draft to cover it. 
After a spell of waitin' they said they'd call 
it square for two hundred dollars, considering 
our disappointment. And I sent the draft. 
That's spurred them up to get over our statue, 
I reckon. And, now that it's coming, it will 
set us right with the boys." 

"And sAe" said Clinton Grey again, point- 
ing to the locked chest, " belongs to us ? " 

" Until we can find some lady guest that 
will take her with the rooms," returned the 
President, a little cynically. 

But the arrival of the real statue and its 
erection in the hotel vestibule created a new 
sensation. The members of the Excelsior 
Company were loud in its praises except the 
Executive Committee, whose coolness was 
looked upon by the others as an affectation 
of superiority. It awakened the criticism 
and jealousy of the nearest town. 

"We hear," said the Red Dog Advertiser, 
" that the long-promised statue has been put 
up in that high-toned Hash Dispensary they 
call an hotel at Excelsior. It represents an 
emaciated squaw in a scanty blanket gather- 
ing roots, and carrying a bit of thorn- 
bush kindlings behind her. The high- 
toned, close corporation of Excelsior may 
consider this a fair allegory of California ; 
we should say it looks mighty like a pro- 
phetic forecast of a hard winter on Sycamore 
Creek and scarcity of provisions. However, 
it isn't our funeral — though it's rather 
depressing to the casual visitor on his way 
to dinner. For a long time this work of 
art was missing and supposed to be lost — 
but by being sternly and persistently rejected 
at every express office on the route, it was 
at last taken in at Excelsior." 

There was some criticism nearer home. 
" What do you think of it, Miss Marsh ? " 
said the President, politely, to that active 
young secretary as he stood before it in the 
hall. The young wonan adjusted her eye- 
glasses over her aquiline nose. 

" As an idea, or a woman, sir ? " 

by LiOOglC 

■_l 1 1 i ti i i i ■_' i 1 1 




" As a woman, madam/' said the Pre- 
sident, letting his brown eyes slip for a 
moment from Miss Marsh's corn -co loured 
crest over her 
straight hut scant 
figure down to her 
smart slippers. 

"Well, sir, she 
could wear your 
boots, and there 
isn't a corset in 
Sacramento would 
go round her." 

he returned, gravely, 
and moved away. 

"what th~> you think of tt p xtiss marsh t 

For a moment a wild idea of securing 
possession of the figure some dark night, 
and, in company with his fellow -conspira- 
tors, of trying those beautiful clothes upon 
her, passed through his mind, hut he 
dismissed it, And then occurred a strange 
incident, which startled even his cool, 
American sanity. 

Vol, sjti.^17 

by Google 

It was a beautiful moonlight night, and he 
was returning to a bedroom at the hotel which 
he temporarily occupied during the painting of 
his house. It was quite late, 
he having spent the evening 
with a San Francisco friend 
after a business conference 
which assured him of the 
remarkable prosperity of 
Excelsior, It was therefore 
with some human exaltation 
that he looked around the 
sleeping settlement which had 
sprung up under the magic 
wand of their good fortune. 
The full moon had idealized 
their youthful designs with 
something of 1 heir own youthful 
colouring, graciously softening 
the garish freshness of paint 
and plaster, hiding w + ith dis- 
creet obscurity the disrupted 
banks and broken woods at 
the beginning and end of their 
broad avenues, paving the rough 
river terrace with tessellated 
shadows and even touching the 
rapid stream which was the 
source of their wealth with a 
Pact Glean glitter. 

The windows of the hotel 
before him, darkened within, 
flashed En the moonbeams like 
the casements of Aladdin's 
Palace. Mingled with his am- 
bition, to-night, were some 
softer fancies, rarely indulged 
by him in his forecast of the 
future of Excelsior — a dream 
of some fair partner in his life, 
after this task was accomplished 
- yet always of someone 
moving in a larger world than 
his youth had known. Rousing 
the half- sleeping porter, he 
found however only the 
spectral gold - seeker in the 
vestibule the rays of his 
solitary candle falling upon 
her divining rod with a quaint 
persistency, and seeming to 
point to the stairs he was ascending. When 
lie reached the first landing the rising wind 
through an open window put out bis light, 
but, although the staircase w:is in dark- 
ness, he could see the long corridor above 
illuminated by the moonlight throughout 
its whole length. He had nearly reached 
it when the slow but .unmistakable rustle of 
Original from 




a dress in the distance caught his ear, He 
paused, not only in the interest of delicacy, 
but with a sudden nervous thrill he could 
not account for. The rustle came nearer — 
he con Id hear the distinct frou Irou of satin — 
and then, to his bewildered eyes, what seemed 
to be the figure of the dummy, arrayed in 
the pale blue evening-dress he knew so 
well, passed 
gracefully and 
down the corri- 
dor. He could 
see the shapely 
folds of the 
skirt, the sym- 
metry of the 
bodice — even 
the harmony of 
the trimmings. 
He raised his 
eyes, half 
prepared to see 
the headless 
shoulders, but 
they— and what 
sejmed to he a 
head — were 
concealed in a 
floating "cloud" 
ox nubia of so me 
fleecy tissue, as 
if for protection 
from the even- 
ing air. He re- 
mained for an 
instant, motion- 
less, da^ed by 
this apparent 
motion of an in- 
animate figure ; 
but as the ab- 
surdity of the 
idea struck him 
he hurriedly 

but stealthily ascended the remaining stairs, 
resolved to follow it, But he was only in 
time to see it turn into the angle of another 
corridor, which, when he had reached it, was 
empty* The figure had vanished ! 

His first thought was to go to the com- 
mittee-room and examine the locked closet, 
But the key was in his desk at home, he had 
no light, and the room was on the other 
side of the house. Besides, he reflected 
that even the detection of the figure would 
involve the exposure of the very secret they 
h:vJ kept intact so long. He bought his 

Digitized by v^iC 



bedroom, and went quietly to bed. But not 
to sleep ; a curiosity more potent than any 
sense of the trespass done him kept him 
tossing half the night Who was this woman 
whom the clothes fitted so well? He re- 
viewed in his mind the guests in the house, 
but he knew none who could have carried 
off this masquerade so bravely. 

In the morn- 
ing early he 
made his way to 
the committee- 
room — but as 
he approached 
was startled to 
observe two 
pain of boots, 
a man's and a 
woman's, con- 
jugally placed 
before its door. 
Now thoroughly 
indignant, he 
hurried to the 
office, and was 
confronted by 
the face of the 
fair secretary. 
She coloured 
quickly on see- 
ing him — but 
the reason was 

"You are 
coming to scold 
me, sir ! But 
it is not my 
fault. U'e were 
full yesterday 
afternoon when 
your friend 
from San Fran- 
cisco came here 
with his wife. 

NSTANT MOTIONLESS.*" \y & t Q J J (, j m 

those were your 
rooms, but he said he would make it right 
with you — and my father thought you would 
nut be displeased for once. Everything of 
yours was put into another room —and the 
closet remains locked as you left it + " 

Amazed and bewildered, the President 
could only mutter a vague apology and 
turn away. Had his friend's wife opened 
the door with another key in some fit of 
curiosity and disported herself in those 
clothes? If so, she dare not speak of her 

An introduction to the lady at breakfast 
Original from 




dispelled this faint hope. She was a plump 
woman whose generous proportions could 
hardly have been confined in that pale blue 
bodice ; she was frank and communicative, 
with no suggestion of mischievous conceal- 

Nevertheless, he made a firm resolution. 
As soon as his friends left he called a 
meeting of the committee. He briefly 
informed them of the accidental occupation 
of the room— but for certain reasons of his 
own said nothing of his ghostly experience. 
But he put it to them plainly that no more 
risks must be run, and that he should remove 
the dresses and dummy to his own house. 
To his considerable surprise this suggestion 
was received with grave approval and a 
certain strange relief. 

" We kinder thought of suggesting it to 
you before," said Mr. Trigg, slowly, "and 
that mebbe we've played this little game 
long enough — for suthin's happened that's 
matin' it anything but funny. We'd have 
told you before, but we dassent ! Speak out, 
Clint, and tell the President what we saw the 
other night — and don't mince matters." 

The President glanced quickly and warn- 
ingly around him. "I thought," he said, 
sternly, " that we'd dropped all fooling. It's 
no time for practical joking now ! " 

11 Honest Injun — it's Gospel truth ! Speak 
up, Clint ! " 

The President looked on the serious faces 
around him, and was himself slightly awed. 

" It's a matter of two or three nights ago," 
said Grey, slowly, "that Trigg and I were 
passing through Sycamore Woods, just below 
the hotel. It was after twelve— bright moon- 
light, so that we could see everything as 
plain as day, and we were dead sober. Just 
as we passed under the sycamores Trigg 
grabs my arm, and says, * Hi ! ' I looked 
up, and there, not ten yards away, standing 
dead in the moonlight, was that dummy ! 
She was all in white — that dress with the 
fairy frills, you know— and had, what's more, 
a head! At least, something white all 
wrapped around it, and over her shoulders. 
At first we thought you, or some of the 
boys, had dressed her up and lifted her out 
there for a joke, and left her to frighten us ! 
So we started forward, and then— it's the 
Gospel truth! — she moved away! gliding 
like the moonbeams, and vanished among 
the trees." 

" Did you see her face ? " asked the Presi- 

" No ; you bet ! I didn't try to- it would 
have haunted me for ever." 

Digitized by LiOOglC 

" What do you mean ? " 

" This — I mean it was that girl the box 
belonged to! She's dead somewhere — as 
you'll find out sooner or later— and has 
come back for her clothes! I've often heard 
of such things before." 

Despite his coolness, at this corroboration 
of his own experience, and impressed by 
Grey's unmistakable awe, a thrill went 
through the President. For an instant he 
was silent. 

"That will do, boys," he said, finally. 
" It's a queer story ; but remember, it's all 
the more reason now for our keeping our 
secret. As for those things, I'll remove them 
quietly and at once." 

But he did not 

On the contrary, prolonging his stay at the 
hotel with plausible reasons, he managed to 
frequently visit the committee-room, or its 
vicinity, at different and unsuspected hours 
of the day and night. More than that, he 
found opportunities to visit the office, and 
under pretexts of business connected with the 
economy of the hotel management informed 
himself through Miss Marsh on many points. 
A few of these details naturally happened to 
refer to herself, her prospects, her tastes, and 
education. He learned incidentally, what he 
had partly known, that her father had been 
in better circumstances, and that she had 
been gently nurtured — though of this she 
made little account in her pride in her own 
independence and devotion to her duties. 
But in his own persistent way he also made 
private notes of the breadth of her shoulders, 
the size of her waist, her height, length of 
her skirt, her movements in walking, and 
other apparently extraneous circumstances. 
It was natural that he acquired some supple- 
mental facts — that her eyes, under her eye- 
glasses, were a tender grey, and touched with 
the melancholy beauty of near-sightedness ; 
that her face had a sensitive mobility beyond 
the mere charm of colour, and like most 
people lacking this primitive and striking 
element of beauty, what was really fine about 
her escaped the first sight. As, for instance, 
it was only by bending over to examine her 
accounts that he found that her indistinctive 
hair was as delicate as floss silk and as 
electrical. It was only by finding her romp- 
ing with the children of a guest one evening 
that he was startled by the appalling fact of 
her youth ! But about this time he left the 
hotel and returned to his house. 

On the first yearly anniversary of the great 
strike at Excelsior there were some changes 
in the settlement — notably the promotion of 




Mr Marsh to a more important position in 
the company, and the installation of Miss 
Cassie Marsh as manageress of the hotel. 
As Miss Marsh read the official letter, signed 
by the President, conveying in complimentary 
but formal terms this testimony of their 
approval and confidence, her Up trembled 
slightly, and a tear trickling from her light 
lashes dimmed her eye-glasses, so that she 
was fain to go 
up to her room 
to recover her- 
sel f alone. 
When she did 
so she was 
startled to find 
a wire dummy, 
standing near 
the door, and 
neatly folded 
upon the bed 
two elegant 
dresses. A note 
in the Presi- 
dent's own hand 
lay beside them. 
A swift blush 
stung her cheek 
as she read : — 

(i Dear Miss Marsh,-- Will you make 
me happy by keeping the secret that no 
other woman but yourself knows, and by 
accepting the clothes that no other woman 
but yourself can wear? 1 ' 

The next moment^ with the dresses over 

her arm and the ridiculous mummy swinging 

by its wires from her other hand, she was 

flying down the staircase to Committee 

Room No. 4, The door opened upon 

its sole occupant— the President 

11 Oh, sir, how cruel of you ! " she 
gasped. " It was only a joke of mine 
... I always intended to tell you, . . . 
It was very foolish, but it seemed so 
funny. , • , You see, I thought it was 
, . > the dress you had bought for 
your future in- 
tended — some 
young lady you 
were going to 
marry ! " 

" It is ! M said 
the President, 
quietly, and 
he closed the 
door behind 

And it was* 

' OH h SIH, HOW ClRUfct UK VL>L 

by Google 

Original from 

Illustrated Interviews. 


Bv Rudolph de Cordova. 


From a Pfcrf*. by] 

F Dr. Warre is not Eton, Eton 
is certainly Dr. Warre. 

Man and boy he has been 
connected with the most 
famous of all the public 
schools of the country for the 
best part of half a century, He may be said 
without exaggeration to have lived his whole 
life there, seeing that from the time he went 
there as a boy until now he was away only 
while he was at Oxford. Of him it lias been 
written by one of the chroniclers of Eton 
(Mr. A. Clutton-Brock, B.A.), "It is enough 
to say that Dr. Warre understands both 
men and boys, that no scholar was ever less 
pedantic, no reformer had ever a deeper 
reverence for the past, and no successful man 
ever owed les* to advertisement. Dr. Warre 
has made many changes, particularly at the 
beginning of his career, and changes in a 
school, whatever their character, seldom 
plense the boys, and are apt to dissatisfy the 
masters. Yet, in spite of this, his popularity, 
always great, has steadily increased with 
years, and it is safe to say that no head master 
was ever more honoured and trusted by 
masters and boys alike." 

3 y Google 

[Gt&iyt Acinitu, Ltd. 

If circumstances have denied me the 
pleasure of writing critically or compli- 
mentarily of the head master of Eton, they 
have nevertheless conferred on me the fa\ r our 
of an interview, and so of being the medium 
through which he may speak to a large 
number of those who know and reverence 
him personally, and to the still greater body 
of the public which only knows him by repute 
as a great head master. 

In the head master's own room at Eton the 
first obvious thing to ask for was a comparison 
of the Eton of Dr. War re's day with the 
Eton of to-day. 

" Hie comparison, to be really interesting," 
replied Dr. Warre, "should be the comparison 
made by a boy of the time when I was at 
school with a boy now, I am advanced in 
years, so I am not in a position to judge. 
Old Etonians seem, quite unconsciously, to 
imagine that things must be to-day the same 
as they were in their own time, and are 
shocked to find that they are different, 
because they forget that each generation has 
its own point of view. The aggregate of my 
impressions on this point, however, is this: 
that the surroundings, including one's own 

Original from 



Prom a I'SotQ. M the keai 

subjective perception of things, are not the 
same as they were. The change is ? however, 
merely the same as that which has taken 
place in the rest of society, ilnd when one 
recollects how much suffer was our social 
environment when we were young as com- 
pared with what it is now, it is not so difficult 
to understand these differences. In some 
respects life at Eton was undoubtedly harder 
than it is to-day. 
I do not think, for 
instance, that there 
was as much com- 
fort or regard paid 
to comfort as there 
is now. My own 
room and, so far as 
I can remember, 
boys' rooms gene- 
rally were much 
less well furnished 
or artistically 
decked than most 
boys* rooms are 
now. That, how- 
ever, is exactly the 
same with regard 
to the hoys f homes. 
All public schools 
are practically 
made by the homes 
from which the 
boys come, so that 
any distinction so 
far as social things 

go must be taken 
in relation to the 
movement of the 
whole area of Eng- 
lish society, for one 
cannot, in reality, 
dissociate them. 

" How, when I 
was a boy > were we 
Ted ? Very well ; 
our food was plain 
and simple, and 
although there is a 
tendency to make 
out that boys eat 
far more meat now 
than we used to 
do, we certainly 
used to have meat 
twice a day. Break- 
fast and tea were 
very simple meals, 
and were usually 
supplemented with 
things which we bought. These two meals 
we had in our own rooms, while dinner and 
supper were taken in the masters' dining- 
rooms. Now, in most houses breakfast is 
served in the dining room. This probably 
has come ahout owing to morning chapel, 
which begins at 9,25, and as the boys do not 
come out of school until 8.30, the breakfast 
in common is more economical of time than 

\Iiill**t cta*iiuUr& 



Original from 

[If ill* dt Stiundtn, 




would be the case when the custom was for 
each boy to have breakfast in his own room, 
Von see, the day begins early with us here, 
for the boys have to be in morning school at 
7.30 in the autumn and spring school-times, 
and at seven in summer." 

u How would you compare the course of 
work now with what it was when you were a 

*' In my time we had a ' saying lesson/ as 
we used to call it, every day. In accordance 
with the recommendations of the Public 
School Commission the system of repetition 
has been modified, though I think, myself, 
it is a pity that 
there is so little of 
It now. Our * say- 
ing lesson ' was 
classical, and the 
result was that 
almost every piece 
of Latin and Greek 
poetry which we 
had construed in 
school had to be 
said by heart. In 
my school days 
the curriculum 
practically re- 
solved itself into 
Latin and Greek, 
for we were taught 
little mathematics 
and no French, 
What has made a 
great difference in 
the school work is 
the introduction 
of new .subjects, 

and the fact that education is now dominated 
by examinations. People who write about 
education do not, it seems to me, realize 
that the schools cannot have the same free 
hand as formerly, for the examinations of the 
Universities and the State must be prepared 
for. You cannot ignore them, or avoid 
special work for them, do what you will. 

"So far as work in the school goes, the 
rank and file have to work much harder now 
than they used to do ; a good deal more is 
imposed and a good deal more is demanded 
of the boys. Per tonira^ the clever boy has 
the same work as the average boy to do, and 
some people are disposed to find fault with 
the fact that the clever boy does not have 
enough time left to him for the improvement 
of his mind after his own bent. It is diffi- 
cult, however, to see how one could have the 
:wo systems working harmoniously together. 

Digitized by W 

The Newcastle Scholarship still keeps its 
level, and the Oxford and Cam bridge Certi- 
ficate examination, which the * First Hundred 1 
undergo every year, sets } as it were, a standard, 
and gives an object for work which, take it all 
in all, is very effective. During my time 
there was nothing like the Oxford and 
Cambridge Certificate examination* The 
system of School 'Trials/ as the terminal 
examination here is called, has also helped 
to alter the incidence of work* Every boy 
is examined at the end of the school term, 
which it is a peculiarity of Eton 10 call a 
* half/ although there are three terms in the 

From a Phota, hi/] 


( Hill* & ArtVwfertL 

year As a boy*s place in the school depends 
on the result of the ' trials J he is put on his 
mettle three times every year. All this has a 
very definite effect 011 the general education. 
Then, again , there is the Army class, which 
takes over a hundred boys of the type which 
in the old days was not the most studious 
while at school, but would have left and 
gone to a cm miner's to be especially prepared 
for the Army. They are now among the 
hardest workers in the school, and their 
example makes a very considerable difference 
to the other boys, 

44 With regard to recreation, the same old 
games still go on as they used to do* Rowing 
and cricket are still kept up and still retain 
their pre-eminence. They are by no means 
the only method of relaxation, for foot hall, 
racquets, and fives are all pi os[>eroiiS. 

"Then t^^ff a f»fp ^Bles. In the oid 




times a heterogeneous pack existed ; but it 
was not supposed to be allowed, and, of 
course, it was out of bounds ; but the insti- 
tution has been for a long time recognised, 
and there is a very good pack of beagles 
which hunt in the Easter half. Nor must 
we omit the Eton College Volunteer Rifle 
Corps, of which at one time I was in com- 

"There is one important point Lo which I 
refer with pleasure : the relation which exists 
between master and boy. In my young days 
there were very few masters. Indeed, there 
were under twenty in all, whereas now there 
are more than sixty* True, when I was a 
boy there were only about six hundred boys 

Frum. r* Photo, by) 


in the school, whereas now there are over 
a thousand, so that the average number of 
boys to a master is much smaller than it was. 
The result was that the masters in my 
time were really overworked, and so were 
kept much more aloof from the boys than 
they are now. The masters took very 
little interest in our games, and left us 
much to ourselves in our pursuit of them. 
Perhaps our sports were also rougher then, 
as society was, and coarser in expression. We 
had no doubt a compensating balance in the 
complete freedom which we enjoyed not- 
withstanding the system of i shirking ' which 
was then in vogue, That was abolished, if I 
remember right, under Dr. Balston, who was 
head master in the sixties. In old limes, 
although the river was in bounds, and one 

Digitized by G* 

was supposed to be allowed to boat, yet the 
approaches to the ri\er were out of bounds, 
and to reach the river we had to break the 
rule of remaining in bounds. The same was 
true with regard to the Park and Windsor 
Castle, in which we were always allowed, and 
the precincts of which were technically in 
bounds. You ask me what shirking was. 
Well, if a boy was out of bounds and he saw a 
master coming, or one of the Sixth Komi, lie 
had to hide, and if in the town fie would 
run into the first shop and take refuge 
until the coast was clear. If the master 
came into the shop, however, then the 
boy hid behind a counter in order that he 
might not be seem Of course all this was 

eminently ridicu- 
lous, and the 
greater freedom 
which has come 
into vogue of late 
years has not 
made any practical 
difference as to 

"As the num- 
ber of masters 
increased, and the 
work of each thus 
became less 
severe, those who 
were distinguished 
for rowing and 
cricket used to be 
invited by the boys 
to help them. In 
this way I myself 
was often invited, 
but I took good 
care never to 
make the position 
a false one. Indeed, I never would coach 
the eight unless I was specially asked to 
do so for a particular day, and when the 
boys omitted to ask me, expecting me to 
come as a matter of course, they were some- 
times surprised to find I did not put in an 
appearance. The same was true with regard 
to cricket. In that way the confidence of 
the boys has never been forfeited, because 
they have always felt that a master would not 
take part in their games unless invited. The 
relation between the master and boy has thus 
become a most wholesome one. 'There is a 
story that when Bishop Selwvn was out in 
Polynesia he met an Eton man, with whom 
he took his midday meal, In the course of 
conversation the man remarked, i I'm afraid 
I didn't learn much at Eton, One thing, 

Original from 

[Hill* d Sn mutts-*. 



Pram a f'huto. 6^] 

11L rL.\vi\t; MKi.D*i r 

[iftfU it Sounder*. 

however, I did learn ; that was to know my 
place and to keep it*' It was a very good 
thing to learn, and it is a lesson we all learn 

11 With regard to ray schoolfellows, I do not 
remember anything particular of many of 
them in my time. I recall, however, as an 
eloquent speaker in Pop, (the name by which 
the Debating Society is always known), the 
Right Hon. Mr E. R* Wodehouse, who has 
been M.P. for Bath for the last twenty years, 
and I remember, too, also as a good speaker, 
Mr Reginald Vorke, who was at one time 
member of Parliament for Gloucester, They 
were the leading boys in the school in my 
time. At this moment, however, I confess 
that I do not remember any of those at school 
with me, with the exception, perhaps, of the 
present Chancellor of the Exchequer, whohave 
attained any great eminence as statesmen. 
Of those who have come to the front since 
I do not remember any particular legends to 
exist, This may seem strange to the outsider, 
but is quite within comprehension here, 
because the whole thing is on such a fooling 
of equality, and anything like presumption of 
greatness would be resented. There is no 
place in the world where anything like what 
is popularly called 'side' would be so 
quickly put down. All the conditions here 
are decidedly democratic in that respect, so 
that even members of the Royal Family 
educated here are treated in every way just 
like ordinary boys." 

It is part of a journalist's business to know 

Vol* x*i— 16 

Digitized by dOOgle 

everything, for which reason I suppose most 
journalists don't know more than they ought. 
I had heard, however, a little story of 
Dr, Wn ire's prowess at school One day 
when he went up to the head master 
to receive a prize at the end of the half, 
Dr. Hawtrey, in presenting him with his 
book, said, with a kindly smile, "If you 
go on at this rate, you will ruin me in hooks." 

I recalled this anecdote to Dr. Warre, and, 
if lie will forgive my saying so in print, the 
diffidence of the head master in hearing it 
was as marked as if he had been a boy again. 
He shook his head* "There really was very 
little in it. Those prizes were for 'collections/ 
as they were termed They were copied from 
Oxford, and were introduced when I was in 
the lower Fifth form, and lasted until the 
beginning of my head mastership, about 1SS5, 
when they were altered to 'trials.' Somehow 
or other I managed to win the * collection 1 
prize in my division every time, and that was 
how I came to the notice of Dr. Hawtrey in 
the way you mention. 

"After Dr. Hawtrey became Provost, Dr. 
Good ford, one of the assistant masters, 
succeeded him. He was an excellent scholar 
and a good and painstaking teacher, though 
he had one curious characteristic, for he 
often seemed to be asleep in school. I need 
hardly say, however, he never really was so, 
for it was impossible for any of us to do 
anything that escaped his notice. Soon after 
he was appointed head master I left to go 
to Oxford." 

Original from 




Fr«>ui a i y haU>, hu\ 

Four u all— or n dans v, CoLt-E^FkS. 

,'■»' (j ,.--...' ."> 

11 But first you took the highest honour?, 
both in school and out, did you not?" 1 

"I certainly did win the Pulling, and I 
was lucky enough to get the Newcastle 
Scholarship in the year 1854. I was only 
seventeen at the time, and would have liked 
to have stayed on at Eton another year, but 
my father insisted on my going on to Oxford, 
where 1 won the Balliol Scholarship in the 
following year. At the scholars* table one 
became conscious of being with men who 
would ht sure to do something in the world 
later on. Among them were Bowen, after- 
wards Lord Justice ; Arthur Blomfield, 
afterwards Bishop of Colchester ; Merry, 
now Rector of Lincoln, and Wright, now a 
judge, and many other able and gifted men, 
and among them 
Edward Herbert, 
my brother scholar 
from Eton, who 
was murdered by 
b r i g a n d s i n 

"At the Uni- 
versity the same 
sort of I lung 
prevailed as 
here. The chief 
studies at that 
time were for the 
classical schools 
and mathematics, 
The other great 
schools, History, 
Law, etc, had not 
taken the position 

they have now, I went in for Moderations 
in Classics and Liters Humaniores in the 
final schools. I naiu rally took to rowing at 
Oxford, and my time was divided between 
rowing and reading. Once you get into 
a groove life goes pretty smoothly at 
the University, and 1 do not think I 
ever did anything else until the Rifle Corps 
was established. I did not row in the inter- 
University boat race until 1857, although 
I might have done so in the previous year. 
In 1855 I remember the Thames was frozen 
from Oxford downwards, and skating was 
enjoyed for miles along the course or the 
river> so there was no boat race that year. 
In 1857 I rowed six, and in that year we 
used the first keel less boat which was used 
in a University race. The President of the 

From a I k hotQ. &yl 

<J by Oo 

THE ETON Elflll 




[ HUtt it Sa-afvUrM. 




Fj-whi a Phut?}, fcsr Al fret Ki&mek, ft" ton. 


From a Photo, by Alfred A*wa*Jr t Eton. 


Frvm a PfmU>. by Alfr&l Ki**acl, item. 

ETON S*ICiei"V, KKht'Kh cjh' THfc MEL1>, 
From <i P&ofe?. lit Alfred Kiuatk^ Eton. 

From u I'hvto bp Aifrtd Ki**t*fl- r Etyn. 

J. edwa roes- moss, captain ok the 

Prim* i*hnlA h v Alfrtd Kut*dtl\ t.tun 

al. e, ijlake, captain of the 

J-Wji n Photo . by A Ifr&i Ku*aek T Eton. 



Fttttu (i J'Awto. &y ,41/recf Kitvitk* JFJok. 


by GoOglC 

I i ETON SFOK^pjgj 




From a Ph^to* bp Hills tt Sanndert. 

Oxford University Boat Club at that time 
was an old Eton man, Arthur Hey wood 
Lonsdale, who was a great benefactor of 
rowing, and it was lie who introduced the 
keel! ess boat which had been seen at Henley 
in the previous year. It required some 
courage to introduce it for University rowing. 
In 1857 we won, but in 1858 we reverted to 
the old fashioned boat, in which I rowed 
seven, and we were defeated, although the 
defeat must in part be attributed to the fact 
that a steam -tug bore down upon us just 
before the start, and the wash nearly upset 
us and bent the rowlock of the stroke oar, so 
that we practically rowed the race with seven 
men, and it was virtually all over at the 
start. In 1859 I was President of the Boat 
Club, but did not row at Putney that 
year as I reading for 'Greats. 1 

'* The system of training was then much 
more unscientific than it is now. Our liquor 
was very carefully restricted in amount, 
and we used to eat a great deal of meat 
with few vegetables. The consequences 
were decidedly not good, and many of the 
men suffered a great deal from boils. Still 
we were young and strong, and had good 
digestions, so that no permanent harm 
ensued horn the abnormal diet on which we 
were put. 

"While at Oxford I took a great interest 
in the getting up of the Oxford University 
Ride Corps, and 1 became its senior captain. 
In its formation many of the Dons took a 
great interest. Among them was the Provost 
of Queen's College, Dr + Thompson, who was 
afterwards Archbishop of Yoik. ■ Mr was 
Chairman of the Committee, on which also 
were I Jr. Jeune, afterwards Bishop of Peter- 
borough, and Dr. Evans, afterwards Master 

by Google 

of Pembroke. 
The Lord Lieu- 
tenant of Oxford- 
shire, the then 
Duke of Marl- 
borough, as the 
scheme was being 
carried through 
in the county as 
well as at the 
University, in- 
vited our com- 
mil tee men to 
attend the county 
meetings. In that 
way I learned a 
good deal about 
committee work, 
and had my 
reward in the experience which I gained in 
the work of organization, which has been 
of the greatest use to me in my subsequent 

11 As senior captain I was in command of 
the first review of the University Corps when 
the Prince of Wales came down to review it. 
Everybody was very nervous at the time, for, 
strange though it must seem to us now that 
the Volunteer movement has attained such 
remarkable proportions, very few people 
knew anything about rifles in those days. 
When the first volley was fired there was a 
great scare. Many horses on the review 
ground bolted in all directions, and two old 
ladies who were in a brougham were inlro 
duced rather unceremoniously to a neigh- 
bouring ditch, No great harm, however, 
was done, and the review did not a little to 
stimulate interest in the Volunteers, who at 
that lime drilled in the grounds of Magdalen 

" Of course you knew the late Professor 
Jowett well?" and I noticed on the mantel- 
piece of Dr. Warre's room a bust of the great 
Vice Chancellor. 

"Yes, tf replied Dr. Warre, "very well. 
Indeed, it is difficult for me to speak of him, 
as he was an intimate friend of many years' 
standing. He took a great deal of interest 
in me when I was at Balliol, and his kind- 
ness was never-failing, so that I entertain the 
greatest regard and reverence for his memory. 
His conversation was always worth hearing, 
but his powers of silence were very great, and 
he would sometimes walk with one for ten 
or fifteen minutes and never say a word 
during the whole time. His aim was always 
to help everyone with whom he came into 
contact, and he invariably gave a stimulus in 

Original from 




the right direction, while one was always 
certain to get the wisest counsel from him. 

" You ask me about the stories concerning 
the master ? Well, most of the many under- 
graduate stories told of Jowett had been just 
as glibly told or one of his predecessors, Dr. 
Jenkins ; in fact, these stories become tradi- 
tional, and are passed on to succeeding 
masters as fancy dictates. Of these stories 
I can recall two* One Sunday a scholar, for 
a joke, in his surplice after coming out of 
chapel climbed into one of the great elm 
trees in the quadrangle and sat down on a 
branch- The attention of the master as he 
was passing from the chapel to his lodgings 
was called to the 
fact, but the only 
remark he deigned 
to make was 'What 
a great white bird/ 
and so passed on, 

"On another 
occasion someone 
had smashed a lot 
of windows in the 
front quadrangle. 
When the matter 
was brought to his 
attention the 
master after a 
moment's con 
sideration replied, 
in an oracular 
voice, * I rather 
think it is the 
effect of lightning.' 
This comic ele- 
ment was, however, a part of his wisdom in 
government, which was none the less success- 
ful because he refused to be drawn by either 
comedy or tragedy in academic life. 

14 Life at the University having run its usual 
course I was invited to return to Eton as an 
assistant master, and I came back in i860. 
My interest in boating led me, on the invita- 
tion of successive captains of the boats, to 
coach the eight for the Westminster race and 
afterwards for Henley, and I continued this 
coaching until I became head master in 
1884, At the very beginning of my assistant 
mastership I started the Volunteers, of which, 
as I have said, I was in command for a time. 
Even now, though I am no longer able to 
coach, boating and boat-building have a great 
fascination for me f and during the holidays I 
find a great deal of pleasure in designing 
racing eights and other river craft. 

"Oh, yes," this in answer to a question I 
asked, "I knew Mr. Gladstone many years. 

He was always very kind to me. Everyone 
knows his memory was extraordinary, and the 
following fact will show even more vividly 
than most anecdotes that have been told of 
him how retentive it was. 

u On one occasion he came down to 
Eton to lecture on Homer, and I may say, 
in passing, I was struck, as was everybody, 
with the extraordinary range of his know- 
ledge. After the lecture was over Mr. 
Gladstone expressed a wish to see the old 
books of the Eton Society, of which he 
had been a member, and they were broueht 
up for him. In his day it was the custom 
for a pricis of the debates to be written in 


From d Phttta. hg Uiiit tt 

by the Vice-President of the Society, In 
turning over the leaves of the book he 
came upon a speech of his own, and looking 
at the writing he declared, 'That is not 
his writing/ meaning the Vice-President's 
of the week ; ' that is Milnes Gaskell's 
writing/ yet it was sixty years, at least, 
since he had seen the writing in question* 
On that visit everyone remarked the extra- 
ordinary care Mrs. Gladstone took of her 
husband- Mr. Gladstone himself always 
appreciated that care, but he often humor- 
ously resented it. The story is told of him 
how that when he was walking in the garden 
one evening, and Mrs. Gladstone called to 
him to come in, he said, /I shall take one 
turn more just to show my independence.* 

41 ( Ves, I also knew Lord BeaconsfickL I 
remember going down to Hugh en den one 
day to arrange for a field day for our Volun- 
teers, whom he had kindly invited, and I 
was greatly amused at the fact that on going 
Original from 




Ftam a J^oto. bv\ 



out to show us the grounds he took with 
him a little* bill-hook. It was just at the time 
when Mr, Gladstone was being caricatured as 
a wood-cutter with an enormous axe, Lord 
Beacons field, however, did not say a single 
word that suggested there was any meaning 
in his action, so I must leave you and your 
readers to draw what inference you choose 
from the circumstance." 

M It is a trite saying, I know, that * the 
Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing 
fields of Eton. 1 How many Etonians are 
now at the front? 

11 Altogether over i t ioo in various branches 
of the service. Sir Redvers Buller, Lord 
Methuen, General Pole-Carew, and many 
other general officers were at Eton, and, of 
course, everybody remembers that the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, Lord Roberts himself, is an 
old Eton boy. He was at the school some 
years before I was, and, from what I have 
said, you will not be surprised at learning 
that there are, so far ns I have been able to 
discover, no traditions preserved of him 
during the time he was here," 

" Much has been heard from time to time 
about the evils of fagging. How far does 
your experience bear out this statement? 
What are the present services of the fag, 
and the relation between him and his fag 
master ? " 

by Google 

" There is in reality very little fagging, 
1 1 is restricted to Sixth and Fifth forms 
above Middle Division— that is, to boys who 
are, as a rule, about sixteen or seventeen 
years of age, A lower boy may be sent 
on a message, and in the houses there is 
a certain amount of fagging for breakfast 
and tea. But there is now much less of this 
than in former days* While a fag is supposed 
to owe these services to bis master, the fag- 
master, on the other hand, has to befriend 
and protect his fag if he does his duty* It 
is very rare that any question as to misuse of 
the power of fagging arises. I do not believe 
that anything of the kind often occurs, or 
that it would be left unnoticed or unpunished 
by the boys themselves." 

If the boys find a visit to the head master's 
room as pleasant an experience as I did, 
they must have a very happy life at Eton. 
There are, however, interviews and interviews 
- iS illustrated interviews" and others — and 
the point of view of the interviewer is, as a 
rule, different from that of the interviewed. 
Still, I can regard an interview with Dr. 
Warre, even for a schoolboy, being robbed of 
much of its pain by reason of his sympathy 
of manner and broadness of view, which 
cannot fail to strike the most casual observer, 
in which category I will, for this occasion 
only, and without prejudice, set myself down. 

Original from 

Who Lives Next Door? 


By George Manville Fenn. 


HE house is in thorough 
repair, sir, and the drainage 
has been carefully examined 
by our own man ; and if I 
might advise, sir, I should 
say, buy the lease. Fifty 
years to run. It is a bargain." 

u Not at that price," I said. " But tell 
me, what about next door ? " 

"Colonel Derrick, sir; old Indian officer." 

" No, no ; I mean that blank, bricked- 
up place. What is it — a workshop of some 
kind ? " 

" Oh, dear, no, sir ; the gentleman at the 
next house but one is an artist, and I believe 
he uses the house between him and this as a 
studio. Windows on the other side face 

We had a good look at the next house as 
we passed it once more, and again noticed 
that it looked very blank and grim, with the 
door and every window from basement to 
attic bricked up. In other respects it was 
exactly like the dwellings in the rest of the 
narrow street, one dating from the days of 
George II., and attractive to us from the fact 
that it was only a footway, posts and rails at 
either end putting a stop to all other traffic. 

# The result was that I bought the lease ; we 
furnished the house, moved in, and congratu- 
lated ourselves more and more for what we 
called our luck in having procured a delight- 
fully old-fashioned home in a quiet street — 
at least, in as quiet a street as can be 
obtained in the big City. 

" It's almost as good as being in chambers 
in the Temple, dear. I am glad we came," 
said my wife, at breakfast one morning. " I 
like the house more and more. Why, it 
might be detached, for all we hear of our 

Only a few mornings later my wife 
returned to the subject. 

11 That studio next door doesn't belong to 
Mr. Delayne." 

14 What ! How do you know ? " 

" Jane says Mr. Delayne's servant told her. 
She thought it was our place, and went with 
this house." 

by L^OOgle 

The time went on and we, being very quiet 
people, much engrossed in our own affairs 
and going about a good deal, gave no further 
thought to the blank house next door. 

Naturally I had only the ground-rent to 
pay, and it was very light for such a dwelling ; 
but this was made up for by the rates, which 
rather staggered me when they came due, 
being so heavy that I wrote an angry appeal 
to the parish authorities, pointing out that 
the demand was much in excess of what it 
should have been for such a place. 

I waited then, but not long, before a 
business-like letter came from the collector 
to say that the previous holder of the lease 
had never made any demur, and that a little 
consideration must show me that the assess- 
ment was upon what in fact answered to two 
houses, although the studio or warehouse was 
not used as a dwelling. 

" Whatever does the man mean ? " said my 
wife, to whom I was reading the letter. 

" Stop a moment," I said, " I don't under- 
stand myself." 

" I do," cried my wife, quickly ; " he has 
charged you rates for that blank place next 
door that must belong to the people in the 
next street." 

" The idiot ! I'll give him such a dose 
on paper ! " 

1 sat down at the writing-table and wrote 
the note, and then I lit my pipe, to sit and 
think ; and as I thought it began to seem 
very mysterious, and a whole train of strange 
ideas marshalled themselves and began to 
march through my brain. 

" Here, I won't write to the man to-day," 
I said, at last. 

" No ; don't do anything rash, dear. It 
can only be a mistake," said my wife, sagely. 
" Wait." 

I agreed to wait, and that night I lay awake 
thinking about the house ; but, all the same, 
I awoke early, dressed, and went to one of 
the back windows, leaned out as far as I 
could, and saw little enough — the back 
windows of a house that had not been 
cleaned or painted for years, the lower ones 
being covered with bars. 

in i 1 1 ■_' 1 1 1 




Then I looked down at the garden with 
growing interest, to see the great plane tree 
and plenty of grass where grass would grow. 

My next movement was to the upper 
window, from whence I hoped to see the 
bottom garden wall. I was not disappointed. 
I could see it from end to end> and I made 
out that not only was there no door of com- 
munication with the garden on the other 
side, but no traces of a footpath anywhere ; 
all was over- 

"The mys- 
tery increases/* 
I said to my- 
self, and I de- 
scended with 
the intention of 
going out into 
our own cat- 
walk ; but mys- 
tery begat mys- 
tery, for I could 
hear the maids 
about, and 
seeking a screen 
for my very un- 
usual proceed- 
ings I went 
into my study 
and lit my pipe, 
going out smok- 
ing. Not that I 
could see much 
more than I 
had made out 
when leaning 
from the upper 
windows, and 
after a time I 
went in. 

To my sur- 
prise I found 
my wife up and 

-* We are in 
lucks way, 
dear/' I said, 
"Fate has left 

us a legacy, and I mean to take possession 
of that next house. 1 ' 

" Bui you have no key/ 1 

"Never mind that, III find a way in." 

" I know it's perfectly absurd, dear, 1 ' said 
my wife ; " but somehow 1 cant help think- 
ing about that dreadful place by day and 
dreaming about it at night, when all sorts of 
horrible ideas come to me." 

il I'm Just in the same boat," I said ; " but 

Digitized by G< 

dorVt call it a dreadful place. The house 
has been deserted or forgotten, that's all 
Look here, As soon as the servants are gone 
to bed to-night I mean to take the steps, get 
over the wall, and see if there's a way in at 
the back/* 

It seemed as if the servants never would 
go to bed that night, but ai last the coast was 
clear, and, leaving my wife pale and trembling, 
I sallied forth, raised my ladder, reached the 

top of the wall, 
drew up and 
lowered the 
steps on the 
other side, de- 
scended into a 
rustling mass of 
growth, and 
then stood 
listening and 
breathing hard, 
till the" dark 
lanthoru in my 
coat - pocket I 
had provided 
myself with re- 
minded me of 
the necessity 
for action by 
growing uncom- 
fortably hot. 

Upon draw- 
ing out the 
heated utensil, 
burning my 
fingers and 
spreading a pe- 
culiar odour of 
blistering japan, 
I turned on the 
light a very 
little, feeling 
sure that some- 
one must be 
watching me, 
till, growing 
reckless, I took 
a few steps for- 
ward, and found 
that there was a narrow area choked up with 
growth, and windows belonging to the base- 
ment, but bricked up. Then I came to a 
door, likewise bricked up, and growing bolder 
and raising the rays of my lamp, I made them 
play upon die lower windows of the house, 
two on the left side of the doorway, one on 
the right. 

There was nothing more to learn, so I 
returned as I had come, to find my wife 
Original from 





waiting, panting as if after exertion, and 
ready to greet me with : — 

" Oh, my dear, how long you have been ! 
Now I hope you are satisfied." 

" Satisfied ! " I cried. " Are you ? " 


So far from being satisfied, our curiosity had 
only received a fresh whet, and as the days 
glided on and we continued our long dis- 
cussions as to what could be the reason for 
the house being so strangely closed up, it 
dawned more and more upon me that I was 
not the most curious, for my wife ceased all 
opposition, only putting in a word when I 
made various proposals about getting into 
the place so as to solve the mystery. 

So one night after all was still and I had 
taken my wife down into the wine - cellar, 
and was holding a flat candlestick into one 
of the empty arched bins, she said, rather 
doubtingly : — 

" Yes, you could lock the cellar up after- 
wards every night, and the maids would never 
know what was going on if you wore a pair 
of goloshes and left them down here after 
you had done." 

" Every night ? " I said. " I could break 
through in one." 

" Then I think I would try, dear," said 
my wife. " It will only be into the cellar, 
and if you found that there was anyone 
there you could easily brick the hole up 

The next day, having arranged what I 
should require, I visited an ironmonger, to 
buy a couple of long chisels, a small crow- 
bar, and a short-handled, heavy hammer. 

That afternoon I busied myself covering 
the head of the hammer with thick leather, 
which I bound on with copper wire, and as 
soon as the maids were safely in their bed 
room that night my wife carried the lamp 
and a candlestick downstairs, while I followed 
with the tools. 

The preparations were few. I borrowed a 
kitchen chair, and a stool from the scullery, 
upon which to stand the lamp, my wife in- 
sisting upon keeping me company, and saying 
that she would sit down and attend to the 
dark lanthorn so as to direct the rays from 
the bull's-eye well upon the bricks at the 
bottom of a narrow, doorway-like bin where I 
intended to work. Then, slipping off coat 
and waistcoat and turning up my sleeves, I 

I did not get through the wall that night, 
but I perspired freely, and made a pretty 
good hole, wondering the while at the quality 

Vol xxi.— 19 

of the bricks and mortar used in the days of 
George II. 

The next night I was at it again, finding 
the task harder and harder. 

The third night came, and I was not 
through ; but I had thoroughly realized what 
a bad workman I was by the time I left off, 
with my body terribly heated and my ardour 
much cooled. 

" Look here," I said, "if I don't break 
through to-morrow night 1 shall give it up 
as a bad job, for I'm sick of it." 

" Oh, my dear," cried my wife, excitedly, 
" you must go on now ! " 

Four hours' good work the next night 
upon brickwork two feet thick sufficed to 
make an opening amply large enough for me 
to pass through easily, and then I paused, 
covered with mortar dust, to wipe my face 
and think, listening the while, and not hear- 
ing a sound. 

" Now, then," I said at last, " shall I take 
the lanthorn and go through ? " 

" Yes," said my wife, excitedly, and then — 
" No, no ; don't go in yet ; the place may be 
full of foul air." 

"Very well," I said, giving up willingly, 
for I was very tired ; and we returned up- 
stairs, after carefully locking the cellar 

We neither of us slept much that night, 
and the next day was one weary time of 
suppressed excitement. When at last the 
hour came for descending to the cellar I 
found that my wife was as ready and eager 
as I was. 

I must confess to a slight sense of shrink- 
ing when I closed and locked the cellar-door 
after us, for one of the neighbouring church 
clocks was just striking twelve, and I could 
see by the candle 1 carried that my wife was 
very pale. But her eyes met mine without 
shrinking, and, exchanging lights, I stepped 
into the tall, arched bin, rather encumbered 
with bricks, bent down close to the hole, 
thrust the turned - on lanthorn before me, 
held it at arm's length within the adjoining 
cellar, turning it in various directions for a 
minute, and crept through and stood up 
amongst the brick rubbish which had fallen. 
Then, with a strange, creepy sensation attack- 
ing my spine, I once more turned the light 
about, and ended by asking my wife to pass 
me the candle. 

Taking it from her I set it upon the floor 
a dozen feet or so away, and returned. 

"Give me your hand, dear." 

I took it at once, and she passed through 
so quickly nOfi^imbly that she was directly 





after by niy side, retaining her grasp, though, 

"Well?" slit said, in an awe -stricken 

"Well," I replied, lightly; "here we are. 
Look," I continued, as I directed the rays 
from the bullVeye in all directions, along 
bins and over ceiling and floor ; "a cellar - 
a wine-cellar with no wine ; nothing but dust 
and cobwebs." 

" Except that it is so full of dirt, it is 
exactly like ours, dear/' whispered my wife, 

" Kxaetly ; only that so far as I can see 
there is not a single bottle of wine. What 
are 30U looking at ?" 

" I was trying to make out whether there 
were any footsteps in the dust." 

11 Not a step, dear/' I said, as 1 nude the 

Digitized by d 

light play about. " Halloa, 
this seems to be a deep bin ; 
it's almost like a passage. It 
goes in ever so far, 1 ' 

I advanced towards the 
centre opening on my left, 
and making the light play 
down it I saw, some ten or a 
dozen feet in, something which 
looked queer, and advancing 
I found that the tall bin— free 
from mid division half-way up 
— seemed to be prolonged 
into a passage, probably lead- 
ing into another cellar. 

The object on the floor 
proved to be a board, upon 
which lay a hardened mass of 
mortar blackened with dust, 
and with a bricklayer's trowel 
nearly rusted away sticking 
in the top, while upon touch- 
ing the handle with my boot 
toe it cnimbled away. 

" What does that mean ? ,J 
whispered my wife, who had 

" I should say it was brought 
here to brick up some choice 
wine ; but there is no closed- 
tip bin visible, Let's see : 
that's the side facing the 
street Come along, dear, let's 
look at the other cellars." 

We passed out, to find a 
complete repetition of our 
own basement — two more 
cellars being quite empty ; 
the last, which ran beneath 
the pavement, having still 
within it a dust -covered heap of coats. 

I led the way up the broad flight of stone 
stairs, to find a glass door standing wide open 
and leading into a passage ami hull exactly like 
our own in plan ; but whether the floor had 
been covered it was impossible to say, for it 
was half an inch deep in a fine dust, over 
which I stepped gingerly for fear of raising a 

"No steps," I said, cheerfully, "but the 
place has been, or is, furnished, Look ; 
there's a hall -seat and a sideboard. You can 
see at a glance that no one can have been 
here for many years. I shouldn't be surprised 
if we find some fine old Georgian or Queen 
Anne furniture. No, we sha'n't," I added 
directly, as I made the light once more play 
about through a doorway ; " this place is full 
of packing-g^j^ a | from 




There was no temptation to look farther, 
so I turned back and made for the front 
room, which in our house was my study. 

The door was wide open, and at the first 
glance we could see that there were book- 
cases upon the walls, while a large table 
occupied the centre, covered with strange- 
looking, dust-covered objects that seemed 
like pieces of machinery. There was a tall 
stool or two, and a faint reflection from one 
of the cobwebbed windows showed that 
though bricked up on the other side the 
glazed sashes were still there. 

We crossed the hall,* to find that the 
dining-room door was also wide open ; but 
it had evidently not been used for the same 
purpose as ours. There were the cobwebs 
and dust, and a massive dining-room table 
with extra leaves, but covered closely with 
what I now made out to be stands, bottles, 
chemical retorts, and receivers, in addition to 
various other objects apparently used for 
scientific purposes, while the fireplace was 
bricked out to form a kind of furnace. 

We left the blank-looking place after a 
vain effort to pass through into the back 
room looking on the garden by the great 
folding doors, which formed one end of the 
room, but they were fast, and we stepped 
out into the passage. 

44 Nothing very dreadful, dear," I said. 
" Now, then, what's here ? " 

I was opposite the drawing-room door as 
I spoke, just at the foot of the broad stair- 

Unlike the other rooms, this door was 
shut, and it was only with difficulty that the 
handle would turn. But when it did the 
door yielded grudgingly, and the hinges gave 
out a dull, creaking sound. 

44 Ah, now we come to the furnished 
room," I said, as I stepped in. " Here's a 
thick carpet under foot." 

44 Yes, and curtains," whispered my wife. 

" Bureau, cabinets, table, and an old clock. 
Plainly but well furnished. Look ; the fire 
has been left to burn out ; there are cinders 
in the grate, and the poker is lying against 
the fender just as when it was last used." 

There were the same dust and cobwebs, 
and in one corner a case or two ; while in 
front of a chair standing close to the table 
there were a large book and an inkstand, the 
shape of both softened down by dust. 

" By George ! " I said ; " there's an easy- 
chair, with what looks like a skin upon it." 

" Look, dear, look ! " cried my wife, in a 
hoarse whisper full of horror. 

44 What is it—a rat ? " 

by Google 

" No, no — on that sofa. Oh, for Heaven's 
sake, come away ! " 

She made for the door, candle in hand, 
but I stood as if nailed to the spot for some 
seconds, before walking slowly forward as if 
drawn by some force along the ever-widening 
track of light emanating from the dark 
lanthorn, the widest portion of the rays 
throwing up a something extended upon 
the couch, whose outlines could only be 
those of a sleeping figure or a corpse. 


A wild, agonizing cry brought me to myself, 
and uttering a gasp I sprang back, just in 
time to catch my wife in my arms and save 
her from falling. 

44 1 cannot bear it — I cannot bear it ! " she 
moaned. 44 Take me away." 

44 Be a woman," I said, in an awe-stricken 
tone, and passing my arm round her waist. 
44 Now try and walk," I said, 44 and we'll get 
out of this dreadfril place." 

She tottered along by my side as we 
passed out into the hall to the foot of the 
stairs, and just then a low, harsh, piteous 
groan came from the room we had quitted, 
sending an icy chill down my back, and 
making me almost drag my poor wife to the 
head of the cellar-stairs in my cowardly fear, 
as in imagination I saw the dreadful figure 
rising from the sofa where it lay, and holding 
out its hands. 

But the strange cry ended with a soft tap 
as of metal against metal, and a feeling of 
shame brought me to my senses, realizing as 
I did that the old door had swung-to again 
on its creaking hinges, and the catch of the 
lock had gently touched the brass socket of 
the jamb. 

"Come, come, my dear," I said, confidently; 
44 there's nothing to fear. — Mind the steps. 
— Hold tight— That's the way." 

She did not seem as if she could stand, but 
she stepped forward and made her way 
through the opening quickly enough, and I 
followed with the light and had to lead 
her again through the cellar and up into 
the dining-room, where as soon as I had 
helped her into the easy-chair I flew to the 
cellarette and brought out the port wine and 
a glass. 

I confess that we filled and emptied that 
glass twice before my wife exclaimed : — 

44 Oh, my dear, my dear ! Why did we take 
this dreadful house ? " 

The next morning, with the frightful head- 
ache from which she suffered, my wife was all 
for leaving the place at once, and that night and 




" poit heaven's sake* coug away I h 

the six following we slept at Brighton, where 
the tonic sea air, added to my wife's common 
sense, recovered her so that she was quite 
willing to see the folly of her dread, and we 
agreed to return home to run the mystery 
to an end. 

By seven o'clock in the evening we reached 
home, which looked delightfully cosy, and 
we made a show of smiling at one another 
over the pleasant table with its simple, well- 
cooked dinner. 

The servants were in bed by eleven, and 
we were dressed, ready to explore again, my 
wife being firm as a rock; and I compli- 
mented her on the way in which she was 

For after we had descended to our own 
cellar with the dark Ian thorn, and locked 
ourselves in, she followed me bravely through 
the hole and up into the mysterious house* 

We both of us shuddered slightly as we 
prjtered the drawing-room, the light of the 


bullVeje showing fantastically upon the 
wall : but I opened the lanlhom direeily and 
lit the candle we had left amidst the dust 
upon the table. 

I closed the bull's-eye again with a curious, 
half-fanciful idea that it would be safer to 
secure it from being blown out in case ■ 

That was as far as I got, for my thought 
seemed to stop there, Then I took up the 

" What are you going to do, dear/' 
whispered my wife. 

" lie brave, and you'll see." 

She followed me close up, and the next 
minute we were looking down at a skeleton, 
thickly covered with dust and some traces of 
the garments that had been worn. So deeply 
was it covered that the rather ghastly con- 
figuration of the skull was softened and 
robbed of much of its so-called horror, while, 
plainly seen beneath the soft, grey, im- 
palpable pc&rigj^afofegiTtyere signs of an 




abundant heard and long, flowing hair on 
either side of a bald crown. 

There was no sign of violence, for the 
figure lay upon its back, stretched to its full 
length, and the bones of the hands stood out 
upon its chest* clasped together Every- 
thing, in short — not to dwell upon a gruesome 
subject— suggested that the man r whoever 
he was, had lain down to sleep perfectly 
calmly, and in that sleep had died. 

I said so in a whisper, but my wife 
demurred to my theory* 

" I am right, I think," I replied. w If he 
had been laid out those who attended would 
have placed his arms by his side; if he had 
been murdered he could not have had his 
hands clasped like that He must, as I said, 
have died in his sleep, and for all one could 
say to the contrary it may have been a 
hundred years ago." 

" Yes," said my wife, softly, and there was 
a tremble in her voice as she clasped her 
own hands and gazed down at the remains. 
11 I am not afraid now, dear, only pitiful 
How sad to have died 
like this — alone." 

61 Perhaps," I said. 
11 Let's see if we can 
read his story. 7 ' 

" Read his story?" 

14 Yes ; by his sur- 
roundings," and tread- 
ing softly, as it gener- 
ally falls to human 
nature to do in the 
presence of the sacred 
dead, I began to look 
about the room. My 
first steps were to the 
table where the chair 
the dead might have 
used still stood, There 
were dust - covered 
glasses, alembics, and 
retorts, and what 
seemed to be a roughly- 
made object which I somehow 
associated with electricity ; but 
what took my attention most was 
a large metal inkstand with quill pens 
stuck in it, and beside it the big ledger- 
like tome, 

II Here we are," I said, 
candlestick at the end of 
the; window, and carefully swept the thick 
dust from the cover of the book, which I 
opened, and saw that it was full of manu- 
script entries on one page, the opposite 
thick yellowish paper being blank, for the 

book had fallen open where a quill pen had 
been laid in after its owner had been writing 
and had closed it hastily for some reason 
which I could not for the moment divine. 

f * Look here,' 5 I whispered, and I read the 
clearly written characters, beginning at the 
last paragraph, whose final words were written 
in a hand which grew more tremulous to the 
end, and words seemed to have dropped out 
of the writer's mind. 

The last were : — 

u And to this lest any trouble should .... 
after my , , . , / herewith sign my r . . . 
H . . . ♦ " 

That name had not been signed There 
were a few scratches, and a blurring mark, a 
blotch as if the pen had fallen on the leaf, 
and then the hook must have been hastily 

li Ha ! " I exclaimed ; "here is the key to 
the whole mystery, 1 ' and I closed the book 
again and was in the act of placing it under 
my arm, when my wife uttered a cry of horror 
and a thrill ran through my frame. 

as I set down the 
the table, close to 


Qf , igiB£lH§KB,ni wmsrBRBU." 




For suddenly there was a peculiar soft, 
rustling sound from the window, and a some- 
thing came down like a black cloud over the 
end of the table right upon the candle, just 
brushing my head and shoulder as I involun- 
tarily followed my wife's action and started 
away, to stand the next moment in the semi- 
darkness trembling from the shock and try- 
ing to recover my equanimity, so rudely 

For the bull's-eye lanthorn, which I had 
closed and left standing at the other end of 
the table, sent its diverging rays directly over 
the dark object which had softly come down 
right over the candle and lay, a heap of dust, 
raising a second visible cloud which played 
in motes through the beam of lamplight and 
began to affect our nostrils and eyes. 

"Only one of the old curtains," I said. 
"How fortunate it was that I shut the 
lanthorn door." 

My wife did not speak, but I could hear 
her breath coming and going in a way which 
suggested that her firmness was at an end, 
and I dared put it to no further test. 

"Take up the lanthorn, dear," I said, 
quietly, " and lead on. This is enough for 
to-night." - 

The lanthorn was lifted from the table and 
its light turned round towards the door, 
which had again swung-to, while, hugging the 
great ledger-like book to my side, I followed, 
seeing her right hand glide into the glow 
where the lanthorn s disc fell upon the lock. 
Then I heard the door creak a little, and 
the great round spot of light struck across 
the hall on to the wall upon the other side. 

I paused for a moment or two, gazing 
back into the black darkness of the room, 
and then the door swung-to. We made our 
way in silence back through the hole, and, 
after re-locking our cellar-door, up to the 
dining-room, where, after listening for a few 
moments, my wife set down the lanthorn and 
I laid the old dusty book on the table, where 
the light from the bull's-eye fell. 

u You've brought that book ? " she said, 

" Brought it ? " I answered. " Of course. 
It is what I said — the key to the mystery, and 
may act as the title-deeds of that old 

She said no more, but sank into a chair, 
and sat back watching me while I opened 
the lanthorn, took a couple of candles 
from the sideboard and lit them at the 
smoky flame. 

" How stupid ! " I muttered. "We've left 
the flat candlestick, but 'pon my word, when 

Digitized by LiOOQ IC 

I stopped at the door I didn't feel ready to 
go and rake it out of that dusty old curtain." 

" No," panted my wife ; " it was horrid. 
Let's go to bed." 

" Bed ! Not yet," I said, excitedly. " I'm 
going to have a look first in this book." 

My wife uttered a low, despairing sigh. 

" I won't stop long," I said, opening the 
cover and looking for the owner's name, but 
finding none, though on one side of the first 
page the date, in a particularly clear, round 
hand, "March 20th, 1785." 

"There," I cried ; " that's something as to 
the time that house has been shut up. Wait 
a moment." 

I turned over the leaves by scores till I 
reached the pen about three-parts of the way 
through, but there was no date visible till I 
turned back about a score of leaves, when I 
came upon one in the left-hand corner — 
"October, 181 9." 

Here my wife had quite recovered herself, 
and drew her chair up to mine, her curiosity 
mastering the effects of the shock from which 
she had suffered. 

" I don't see any name," I said, as I turned 
over leaves at random ; " but it's plain enough 
what it is — a physician's everyday book. 
Here they are, notes of the cases he has 
attended, with the names of patients and 
their ailments, and the prescriptions ad- 

These, as it seemed by a rapid glance, 
went on for about ten years, when quite a 
change came over the little paragraphs, 
which, so far as I could make out, dealt with 
experiments in chemistry, one in a few words 
expressing disappointment at something which 
had been sought for not having been dis- 

" My word, this will be interesting ! " I 
said ; " but we must leave it to-night. Let's 
have a look at the last pages, though." 

I turned to them, and we read several with 
increasing eagerness, dwelling long upon the 
last, which told of increasing weakness and 
the despair of a man who seemed to have 
given up the last years of his life to the ex- 
perimental search for something which was to 
prove an infallible cure for certain of the ills 
of human nature, and the gradual awakening 
of the seeker to the fact that he had been a 

There it was, all recorded — I cannot recall 
the words— but the gist of it was that .the 
writer had neglected his practice, which had 
dwindled to nothing, and in his infatuation 
forsaken friends and relatives, living almost 
entirely alone. Ws read, too, that, finding 



iS 1 

the house opposite for sale, he had bought it 
for a laboratory, and quietly had it connected 
by a tunnel under the pathway from cellar to 
cellar, and then had the windows and door 
bricked up so that he could pursue his studies 
in complete seclusion, retiring whenever he 

Lastly, in the poor dreamer's own hand- 
writing, was the record of his feeling that his 
life was nearly at an end, and of his pre- 
parations for the final act. 

I cannot recall even the brief note which 
recorded this, but it was something like this. 
My wife says it was word for word, but 1 am 
not sure. However, here it is, as nearly as 
I can recollect : — 

" To-morrow is my birthday ninety-three; 
and it is forty years since I gave myself up to 
the pursuit of an alluring phantom, perhaps 
from vanity, but Heaven knows I had the 
welfare of the world at heart. I believe I 
shall have strength enough left to build 
up the wall again 
that I once had 
broken through, and 
for which I have 
nightly taken bricks 
and sand from the 
store brought* in by 
the builder, who at 
my wish repaired the 
garden wall of my 
dwelli ng-house, The 
bag of cement I have 
ordered will suffice 
for that — if I have 
sufficient strength — 
if I have sufficient 
strength. It will not 
be noticed in the 
dark cellar perhaps 
when I am missing 
and they search, for 
they will see only a 
wine-bin with a rough 
wall at the back* 

** Two days — hut 
it is done. Sleep, 
How soon ? " 

"Ha!" I said, 
closing the book ; 
"enough for to-night. 
Complete self-immo- 

"When he felt that 
the end was close at 
hand," sighed my 
wife* " How terrible ! 
How strange ! " 

" Why, it is three o'clock t " I said, sharply, 
'*and the candles are half burned down. 
Here, quick. Wait till I've locked up the 

" V r ou are not going to take that book up 
with you, dear?' 1 said my wife, looking at 
me aghast as I lifted it from the table. 

" Indeed, but I am," I said. " I shall put 
it in the deed-box." 

" In our bedroom ? No, no ; don't, dear ; 
it is too dreadful Lock it up in the closet 

" Very well,'* I said, and I locked the 
dusty old folio in the oak closet by the fire- 

A very short time after we were in a deep 
sleep, and in dreams I was seeing a 
venerable, grey- bearded old man toilsomely 
building himself up as it were in what was 
to be his tomb. After that I seemed to see 
him go and lie down to take his final sleep, 
with his clasped hands upon his breast and 






his dim eyes covered with dust, gazing 
blankly up towards Heaven, while he lay 
motionless, deaf to the clamour outside, the 
shouts, the rattle of wheels, and the roar of 
the mob who had come to break into the 
house to make a discovery of the murder 
said to have been done. 

" Yes, yes ! " I cried, excitedly, but without 

11 Oh, pray, pray wake ! " cried my wife. 
" Don't you hear ? Can't you see ? Fire ! 
fire ! " 

I was awake now, to spring out of bed and, 
following my wife's example, hurry on some 
clothes. We needed no light, for a ruddy 
glow seemed to be coming down from above, 
and before I was half-dressed someone was 
thundering at our knocker. 

I threw up the window, to find the passage 
filling, and a couple of engines were already 
at the end of the place against the posts and 

" Yes, yes ! " I shouted. " Where is the 
fire ? " 

"Next door, sir," cried a man, upon whose 
brass helmet the glow was shining. " Come 
down ; we must run the hose up on to your 

I hurried down and admitted the firemen 
and police, one, who seemed to be the leader, 
saying : — 

" The place is going it like a furnace, and 
you'd better get out your plate and any 
valuables you want to save. The police will 
help you." 

I was almost stunned by the news, con- 
fused as I was by being awakened from a 
deep sleep, and it was some minutes before I 
could realize that the blank house was on 
fire, apparently from top to bottom, and a 
great sheaf of flame and smoke roared out 
from the roof. 

In less than an hour we were gazing at the 
fire from a house a few doors lower on the 
opposite side, where in a neighbourly way we 
had been taken in, to see that our place 
and the adjoining one beyond were all 
involved and our household goods were 
shrivelling up in the flames. 

"It's horrible, dear," I said; "but don't 
fret. You have all our important papers 
and the insurance policies." 

" Yes, dear ; all in the deed-box. I saved 
it at once." 

" Good girl ! " I said ; " and that book as 
well. Wify, that tindery old curtain must 
have ignited from the spark left upon the 
snuff when it fell and put the candle out. 
Then it must have slowly smouldered till it 
burst into flame. Never mind ; we have 
saved the chronicle. I would not have lost 
that MS. book for a hundred pounds." 

" Oh, my dear," sighed my wife, " I am so 
sorry! But don't you remember, I was afraid 
to have the book brought up to our room ? " 

Never mind what I said in my haste. 
However, if we had lost the key to the 
mystery, I had still the impression of its 
wards upon my mind, and I thought it better 
to keep my own counsel till one day, when 
turning over the pages of a magazine, I came 
upon an article headed, " Undiscovered 

The subject was suggestive, and I read on 
about people who had been murdered and 
whose assailants had never been detected, 
and towards the end the author introduced 
accounts of people who had been missed, 
never to be heard of more. 

One of the last of these dealt with the 
mysterious disappearance of one Doctor 
Blank, of Wareham Place. 

I was all excitement at once, and read on, 
with my pulses beating, of how, towards the 
end of his career, early in the nineteenth 
century, this distinguished man had become 
eccentric, living quite alone and giving 
himself up to occult studies, till, how and 
when it was not known, he disappeared. A 
neighbour recalled seeing him go out one 
day, but he was never known to return, and 
searches made in his house showed every- 
thing to be in order, but nothing more ; so 
that it was concluded that the infirm, totter- 
ing old man must have been robbed and 

"Certainly," the account concluded, "he 
had never returned to his house." 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speaker's Chair. 






TALKING about the literary 
composition of the Queen's 
Speech on the opening and the 
closing of a Parliamentary 
Session , one who has occasion- 
ally had something to do with 
its production tells me a curious thing. The 
successive paragraphs of the Speeches natur- 
ally vary in topic with the events of the day. 
But whatever happens the Speech must close 
with a brief prayer. It is a point of honour 
with the Minister drafting the document that 
this petition, always the same in purpose, 
shall never be identical in phrase. Curious 
to see how this worked out, I have looked up 
the Speeches from the Throne delivered 
through the life of the last Parliament, and 
find the tradition carefully observed. 

As will be remembered, the concluding 
prayer was omitted in the Queen's Speech 
last Session. This is not the first case of the 
kind. In the Queen's Speech delivered under 
the guidance of the third Salisbury Adminis- 
tration the accustomed concluding prayer 
was forgotten. The Speech abruptly closed 
with suggestion that consideration of legis- 
lative measures, except those necessary to 
provide for the administrative charges of the 
year, should be deferred to another Session, 

When that arrived Ministers came to the 
front with a Speech of*terrible length, con- 
cluding, " I commend these weighty matters 
to your experienced judgment, and pray that 
your labours may be blessed by the guidance 
and favour of Almighty God." On the pro- 
rogation in the same Session Her Majesty is 
made to say : "In bidding you farewell 
I pray that the blessing of 
Providence may rest upon 
all your labours.*' The 
Speech on the opening of 
Parliament in January, 
1897, was again very long, 
leaving room only for the 
somewhat brusque re- 
mark, " I heartily com- 
mend your important 
deliberations to the guid- 
ance of Almighty God." 
At the close of the Session^ 
which counted among its 
acco m pi i s hed wo rks the 
dole to denominational 
schools, the Queen prays 
that " the fruit of your 
labours may be assured 

VoL "" 20 * gilized by Google 

by the protection and blessing of Almighty 

The next Session opens with the prayer, 
"I heartily commend your momentous 
deliberations to the care and guidance of 
Almighty God." " I pray that the blessing 
of Almighty God may attend you" is the 
Queenly benediction at the close of the 
Session, In February, 1899, the Queen, 
addressing my lords and gentlemen, prays 
" that Almighty God may have you in His 
keeping and guide your deliberations for 
the good of my people." At the end of 
the Session — the principal fruit whereof was 
the Clergy Relief Bill — prayer is offered 
"that the blessing of Almighty God may 
attend upon the fruit of your labours for the 
benefit of my people." 

The brief War Session of 1899 was opened 
with the prayer that "in performing the 
duties which claim your attention you may 
have the guidance and blessing of Almighty 
God," At the prorogation the war in South 
Africa gave a special turn to the phraseology, 
" I trust," the Queen is represented as saying, 
"that the Divine blessing may rest upon 
your efforts and those of my gallant Army 
to restore peace and good government to 
that portion of my Empire, and to vindicate 
t/iS honour of this country," At the begin- 
ning of last Session the Queen, addressing 
both Houses of Parliament, "commended 
their deliberations in this anxious time to 
the blessing and guidance of Almighty God." 
Her Majesty's last words to the fourteenth 
Parliament of her reign prayed " that 
Almighty God may have you in His keeping, 
and that His blessing may 
be with you." 

It will be seen from this 
unresponsive litany that 
though it is mainly com- 
piled from a narrow circle 
"*v of words, their arrange- 
ment is always studiously 

When Mr, 
" ma'am," Arthur Balfour 
writes his let- 
ters to the Queen, giving 
a summary of proceedings 
at the current sitting of 
y£iJ the House of Commons, 

if he observes a formula of 

address consecrated by 
long usage, "Mr, Balfour/* 
Original fron 





so the missive runs, "presents his humble duty 

to the Queen, and informs Her Majesty ," 

Here follows the narrative, which it is hoped 
the Leader of the House, in the duli times that 
prevailed at Westminster during the last five 
years, managed to make mere sparkling than 
was possible to other Parliamentary summary- 
writers This quaint form of address finds its 
parallel in the business or social communica- 
tions of the Queen's entourage^ In humbler 
domestic circles the old-fashioned word 
" Ma'am " is rarely heard* Servants and 
shopkeepers when they have occasion to 
approach its use go back to the more formal 
original. It is, "Yes, madam/' or "No, 
madam." The Queen is still " Ma'am." 

Lord Salisbury has good reason to 
know that in the spacious times of 
Queen Elizabeth the form of epis- 
tolary communication between 
her Ministers and Her Majesty 
was less formal than that in 
vogue with the Parliamentary letter- writer from 
the Treasury Bench to-day. The Premier 
is heritor of the correspondence of his great 
ancestor and namesake, Sir Robert Cecil 
In the spring of 1598 Sir Robert was dis- 
patched to the King of France on a diplo- 
matic mission. Writing to the Queen under 
date 5th April of that year, he addresses her 
directly as " Most Gracious Sovereign," and 
throughout as " Your Majesty." In reporting 
his audience with the King — whom, by the 
way, "about three of the clock on Tuesday " 








the English Ambassador found in bed— the 
astute Cecil turns a pretty compliment. " We 
have," he writes, "thought it good to set 
down precisely the same language which I, 
the secretary, used, for we know your Majesty 
to be in all languages one of the miiulx 
dhans of Europe, and most justly think that 
your Majesty had cause to be very jealous 
whether your meaning had been delivered 
in the French to the same sense which our 
English repetition should now express/' 

Here follows, in French of the sixteenth 
century, what Sir Robert said to the King, 
sitting down by his bedside, l( where we 
warmed him so well as, whether it was his 
physic or our message, Monsieur le Grand 
was fain to fetch drink for him/ J 

There is in this letter delightful 
the old disclosure of the ways of the old 
diplomacy, diplomacy. Reporting the read- 
ing of what purported to be the 
text of an important secret document, Sir 
Robert says: "First we left out any of 
those articles which showed the King of 
Spain's readiness to yield him (the King of 
France) all his desires, because that w T ould 
have made him proud and to raise himself 
towards us. For though we think he knows 
too well what he shall have of Spain, yet we 
would not have him think that we know 
it out of the Spaniard's mouth. Secondly 
we left out anything to him that might show 
to him that the Spaniards meant to offer any 
injurious condttions'to England, for then he 
would also have thought 
your Majesty's state the 
more irreconcilable, and 
therefore only acquainted 
him with the reports of 
Villeroie's speeches, of the 
Legate's speeches, of Bel- 
liurs his speeches, and other 
things which we have further 
set down in the enclosed." 

Here is a picture for a 
painter in search of an 
historical subject. Henri 
Quatre, in bed at three 
o'clock on an April after- 
noon, alternating between 
the refreshment of medicine 
and strong drink ; seated 
by his side the crafty English 
emissary, with innocent air, 
reading a carefully - trim- 
med document. 

But if the English diplo- 
matist had his secrets the 

French King had his. The 
Original from 





letter, now carefully treasured at Hatfield, is 

dated 5th April, 1598. Eight days later 

Henri Quatre promulgated the Edict of 

Nantes, with far-reaching consequences not 

only for the history of France but for the 

trade and commerce of England. 

A notable thing in the candidature 
for election to the new Parlia- 
ment was the rush of novelists 
into this new field of fiction. 

One remembers at least three — Conan Doyle, 

Anthony Hope, and Gilbert Parker. Mr. 

Barrie coquetted with a constituency, but 

came to the conclusion that 

he would bide a wee. Of 

the three first named, only 

Mr. Gilbert Parker was 

successful in securing one 

of the Seats of the Mighty. 

Mr. Conan Doyle was badly 

beaten, while Mr. Anthony 

Hope, like his acquaintance 

Quisant£, was, on the eve 

of the contest, attacked by 

illness. Unlike his hero, 

who struggled on and fell 

in the breach soon after it 

was won, Mr. Anthony 

Hope discreetly retired, 

regained his health, and 

lives to fight another day. 
Mr. Henry Norman does 

not rank as a romancist, 

though he has written 

"The Real Japan." But 

he is a man of letters who 

by sheer ability has made 

his way to the front rank 

of journalism. He has the 

advantage, rare among our 

councillors at West- 
minster, of having studied 

foreign affairs, Western 

and Far Eastern, on the spot. 
,.„,„„*«„ Whether Parliament is the best 

LITERARY , r r , ^ 

*.™ place for men of letters is an 
men r . . T - 

parlia- interest,n g question. If con- 
" s Pi CU0US success in a new walk 
be counted as essential to the 
affirmative, the yea will be uttered with 
diffidence. It is not necessary to go back to 
the case of Bulwer Lytton, or the more 
painful one of John Stuart Mill, to support 
the assertion that there is something in the 
atmosphere of the House of Commons un- 
congenial to the ascendency of the literary 

One brilliant exception is found in the 
case of Lord Rosebery, who is equally in 

'THE real JAPAN —J 

command of himself and the situation 
whether writing books in his library or 
making speeches in the House of Lords and 
on the public platform. But there is no 
other. Mr. John Morley will be known to 
fame as a literary man, not as a member of 
the House of Commons. If any man might 
be counted upon in advance to command 
the attention of the House of Commons it 
was Mr. Justin McCarthy. A man of wide 
reading, retentive memory, varied knowledge 
of the world, gifted with humour, a ready 
speaker, here seemed every quality to compel 
success. Yet the author 
of " Dear Lady Disdain," 
and a score of other popular 
novels, never reached that 
place in the House which 
his talents seemed to merit, 
and for which his friends 
confidently designated him. 
On the whole journalists 
do better in the House of 
Commons than do those 
ranking as men of letters. 
Mr. Courtney instructed 
the world through the 
leader columns of the 
Times before, encouraged 
by his success, he stepped 
en to the more prominent 
platform of the House of 
Commons to carry on his 
beneficent work. Mr. 
Labouchere is one of the 
most entertaining journal- 
ists of the age, not laying 
aside the pen even while 
he was steadily making his 
2^0 way to a position of in- 

^t fluence in the House of 

mr. henry norman. Commons. If Mr. T. P. 
O'Connor had given him- 
self up entirely to Parliamentary work he 
would have taken high rank as a debater. 
But the House of Commons will have nothing 
to do with men who give it only the odds and 
ends of their time. After living laborious 
days in discharge of his journalistic work Mr. 
O'Connor sometimes scorns delights, and 
remains in his place long enough to catch the 
Speaker's eye. Even with this desultory 
habit he commands an audience for a 
vigorous speech. The general result is, 
however, confirmatory of the axiom that no 
man can serve two masters. 

Mr. Gibson Bowles, perceiving this funda- 
mental truth, has renounced journalism, in 
which profession he first made his mark, has 

by V_ 



ml I I -• I 1 1 


iS 6 


given himself up entirely to 
the House of Commons, and 
has made his way accord- 
ingly. It must not be for- 
gotten that another member 
of Parliament, of almost equal 
knowledge of public affairs, 
followed the same course. 
Whilst the Marquis of Salis- 
bury was still Lord Robert 
Cecil, he was a regular even 
a struggling, journalist His 
political career opening out, he 
gave up leader -writing, and 
devoted himself to the House 
of Commons, The advantage 
of his early training is felt and 
witnessed to this day in the 
exquisite perfection of the turn 
of his spoken sentences. The 
Premier is one of the very few 
of our public men whose 
political speeches have a subtle, 
indescribable, but unmistak- 
able, literary flavour. 

The new Parlia- 

the ment shows a con- 

press, siderable advance 

in the number of 


gentlemen of England seated 

When he first entered the 

House he was unconsciously 

and undesignedly the occasion 

for embarrassment in high 

places. North of the Tweed 

his surname is pronounced as 

if all the letters had fallen out 

of it except the first and the 

last. When Mr. Gully came 

to the Chair he scrupulously 

called on " Mr. I) L," the letters 

pronounced full length. The 

puzzlement displayed on the 

countenances of mere 

Southerners at sound of 

this unfamiliar name was 

embarrassing. To the 

Speaker, as to other 

Englishmen, the member 

for Kirkcaldy to-day is 

"Mr. Halw/." 

Other old members 
returned to the new 
Parliament are Mr. Scott, 
the editor of the Man- 
chester Guardian^ and 
Mr. Willox, proprietor 

members who in one way or the other are of the Liverpool C&ttrkr* Among new 
connected with the Press. Survivors of the comers are Mr, Winston Churchill, who 
last Parliament are Mr. Arthur Lliott, whose I venture to predict will make his mark in 

seat was saved from contest by 
the chance appearance in the 
Quarterly he edits of an article 
on the war ; Sir John Leng, 
proprietor of the Dundee 
Advertiser, who does not often 
trouble the House with a set 
speech, has a searching way of 
putting questions which effects 
more practical good throughout 
a Session than the average of 
long speeches ; Mr. Dalziel, who 
a dozen years ago entering the 
Lobby as a journalist, now sits 
for Kirkcaldy, holding it with 
increased majority, whilst all 
round him Liberals fell His is 
another case of the not frequent 
incidence of equal facility with 
tongue and pen. He has the 
courage of his opinions, does 
not flinch from performance of 
what he regards as a public 
duty, and in a pleasant voice 
that adds to the aggravation 
"says things" that sometimes 
shock the sensibilities of the 

Digitized by K*Q 


the House as he did in the 
armoured train ; Mr, Cust, a 
former editor of the Pall Mall 
Gazette; Sir George Newnes, 
and Mr. Leicester Harmswurth, 
one of a notable band of 
brothers- The total of news- 
paper proprietors and journalists 
in the present House of Com- 
mons is thirty- three* 

Many years ago Mr. 
Gladstone, talking 
about the constitu- 
tion of the first 
House of Commons in which 
he sat, told me there were 
in it not more than five 
members connected with trade 
and commerce. Things have in 
this matter considerably changed 
since that far-off day. Trade 
and commerce represent con- 
siderably more than half the 
muster of the fifteenth Parlia- 
ment of the Queen. There 
are, to blurt out what the 

. member: of Parliament of the 







mid -century would regard as the most 
appalling fact, thirteen who rank as shop- 
keepers and traders. 

In this the first regular Session 
of the new Parliament the attend- 
ance in both Houses will be 
appreciably greater owing to the 
return of members who volunteered for 
active service in South Africa. Whilst the 
House of Commons contributed twenty -seven 
members, the House of Lords sent thirty-six, 
including the Field-Marshal Commanding in- 
Chief, Lord Kitchener, and Lord Methucn. 
Of the peers the Marquis of Winchester and 
the Earl of Airlie were killed on the field of 
battle. Lord Folkestone, who went out as 
major of the ist Wiltshire Volunteer Rifle 
Corps, comes back Earl of 
Radnor, his father, once a 
well - known figure in the 
House of Commons, dying 
during his absence. This 
event removes a promising 
figure from the Commons. 
In the one or two 
speeches he made 
since his return for 
the Wilton Division 
in 1892, Lord Folke- 
stone displayed a 
lively talent, which 
it is to be feared 
will be lost in the 
more languorous 
atmosphere of the 
House of Lords. 
He commenced his 
training for Parlia- 
mentary work by 
acting as assistant 
private secretary to 

Mr. Chaplin at the Board of Agriculture. 
Had it been possible for him to return to the 
new House of Commons he might have 
renewed his intimacy with his old chief on a 
back bench above the gangway. 

Other members who return to the familiar 
scene under altered circumstances are Lord 
Cranbome, who takes his seat on the 
Treasury Bench as Under-Secretary for 
Foreign Affairs, and Lord Stanley, who has 
been promoted from the Whips' Room to 
the im[>ortacit post of Financial Secretary to 
the War Office. 

In the last Parliament Lord Stanley acted 
as Chairman of the Kitchen Committee, 
gallantly bearing the brunt of Sir Wilfrid 
Lawsons frontal attacks in the matter of 
the illegal sale of liquor at the Lobby bars. 



by GoOglc 

Lord C ran home's migration from below the 
gangway will leave his brother Lord Hugh 
Cecil in the position of principal defender of 
the faith as enshrined in the Established 

It is to be hoped that whilst the 
new Parliament is fresh and 
vigorous it will see to the 
removal of the ridiculous regula- 
tions that bar the public out of their heritage^ 
Westminster Hall. At the time of the 
Fenian scare, when outrages were perpetrated 
at the Home Office, the Times office, and 
elsewhere, precautions were wisely taken to 
safeguard this unique monument of early 
English history. The public were rigidly 
excluded, and since that time Westminster 

Hall has remained a 
wilderness, untrod- 
den, save by the foot 
of officials, and of 
members electing to 
choose that approach 
to the House. 

The Hall was built 
with special view to 
having its flags trod- 
den by a multitude* 
In modern times 
it never looked so 
well as at the period 
w hen the La w 
Courts were still an 
adjunct of the Palace 
of Westminster, and 
at the luncheon hour 
the crowd of barris- 
ters, clients, wit- 
nesses, and spec 
tators [xjured out 
from the Courts to 
pace up and down the splendid thoroughfare. 
There was a later time when from earliest 
dawn till the close at eve on a succession of 
May Days the people crowded in with 
reverent steps, approached and passed the 
bier on which rested the coffin in which Mr. 
Gladstone slept, full of rest from head to foot. 
To -day, with a solitary police- 
man on guard by the members' 
entrance, the Hall looks like a 
great gloomy vault. There is 
not even pretence of cause for maintaining 
restrictions imposed in troublesome times. 
At the time Westminster Hall was made 
desolate the watchful eye of the police was 
flashed upon a narrow passage running be- 
tween Birdcage Walk and Queen Amies 
Gate. The Irish Office may be reached 
Original from 





through the same approach. A policeman 
was accordingly detailed to guard the 
passage and arrest any treasonable - look- 
ing men. Nearly twenty years have sped 
since, in the height of the Fenian scare, 
the policeman was placed on guard at 
this point. He may be there still ; he 
certainly was at his post in the early part of 
last Session when I chanced to pass by this 
secluded entry. Nineteen years ago order 
was issued from Scotland Yard that night 
and day a police- 
man should patrol 
this otherwise 
neglected foot- 
passage. The 
order not having 
been withdrawn, 
night and day the 
policeman has 
been there, his 
not to wonder 

On the same 
principle actuating 
the official mind, 
the public are to 
this day forbidden 
to enter West- 
minster Hall be- 
cause eighteen 
years ago the 
Fenians attempted 
to blow up Sir 
William Harcourt 
in the Home 

It will be remembered that when 

memorial a few years »g:> the King of 

brasses. Siam paid us a visit he displayed 

curiosity far exceeding the habit 
of George III. He did not, so far as was 
known, come across an apple-dumpling. If 
he had he would not have sought his couch 
till he had mastered the mystery how the 
apple got in. On the night he visited the 
Houses of Parliament he passed out by St, 
Stephen's Chapel and Westminster Hall 
Thanks to the reverential care of Sir Reginald 
Palgrave, long time Clerk of the House of 
Commons, the pavement is studded with 
small brasses, marking the precise spot where 
King Charles's chair was placed when he sat 
for his trial, where Perceval fell shot by 
Bellingham, and where other historical events 
in the history of Parliament took place. His 
Majesty of Siam, spotting the brass plates, 
ran about from one to the other wanting to 
know all about them. 




There is obvious opportunity for extension 
of Sir Reginald Palgrave's pious purpose. 
When Mr. Gladstone's coffin was carried 
through a mourning nation from his hushed 
home at H award en to the scene of his more 
than sixty years' service to the State, it was 
set down on the Rags of Westminster Hall, 
just opposite the door opening on the stair- 
way that gives access to the House of 
Commons, Here it rested whilst the in- 
numerable procession passed by to take a 
farewell look, and thence it was carried 
— political foe man and friend bearing 
the pall— on its way to Westminster 
Abbey. Surely the spot is worth 
marking among 
the rest 

Among a 
rare col- 
lect ion 
of photo- 
graphs taken by 
his own camera 
Sir Benjamin 
Stone, photo- 
grapher extra- 
ordinary to the 
House of Com- 
mons, has none 
more interesting 
than one which 
presents the scene 
in Westminster 
Hall in the early 
morning of the 
19th May, 1898. 
The vast Hall 
is empty save for the presence in the coffin 
lying on the bier, A striking effect is 
obtained by the morning light streaming 
in from the windows on the eastern side. 
There is something deeply touching in the 
loneliness and silence of the Great Hall 
Nothing to disturb the last rest of the tired 

The boyish curiosity of the King 

the king 


by Google 

of Siam was embarrassingly de- 
veloped during his visit to the 
House of Lords, His kingly 
state was evidenced by the chair 
set for him in front of the steps 
of the Throne just behind the Woolsack. 
The House chanced to be in Committee, 
necessitating the Lord Chancellor going 
through a series of manceuvres that would 
be trying even to the stately manner of Lord 
Peel, which elevated the dignity of the Chair 
in the House of Commons. Lord Ha Is bury 
invests it with superfluity of comicality. 




The House being in Committee the Chair- 
man presides at the tabic, the Lord Chan- 
cellor marking his temporary abrogation of 
the presidency by standing a pace to the left 
of the Woolsack. Here he remains whilst 
the Chairman rattles the Bill through Com- 

"The question is," says the Chairman, 
"that I report this Bill without amendment 
to the House." 

Thereupon Lord Morley hops out of the 
Chair at the table, and simultaneously the 
Lord Chancellor skips back to the Woolsack 
and proceeds with the Orders of the Day. 
Another Bill getting into Committee he hops 
a pace to the left of 
the Woolsack, and the 
Chairman of Com- 
mittees skips into the 
Chair at the table, 
rattles the New Bill 
through, puts the 
question about report- 
ing it, and Lord Chan- 
cellor and Chairman 
repeat ihzhfiasdedeux. 

Fern wig, skipping 

about the Lord High Chancellor something 
reminiscent of John Leech's illustration to 
the "Christmas Carol," showing Mr + Fezziwig 
leading off the balL If the King of Siam 
had been familiar with the masterpiece of 
Christmas stories he would have recalled the 
passage : — 

"Hilli-ho," cried old 
down from the high desk with wonderful 
agility. " Clear away, my lads, and let's have 
lots of room here. Hilli-ho, Dick I Chirrup, 
Ebenexer ! " 

Unaided by association, His Majesty 
thoroughly entered into the fun of the 
thing. In full view of the shocked House of 

Lords he dug his 
finger in the ribs of 
his chaperon, Lord 
Harris. [ am not 
sure he did not wink. 
I well remember 
how, his face glow- 
ing with laughter, 
he nodded towards 
the broad back of 
the ambulant Lord 


The movement is as automatic as that of the 
two figures in the mechanical weather indi- 
cator, one retiring to his box indicating rain, 
the other coming out to rejoice in fine weather. 
The King of Siam, seated immediately 
behind the plump figure of the Lord 
Chancellor, watched the game with keenest 
interest His big wig bobbing, his gown 
fluttering with the movement, there was 

Chancellor, drawing Lord Harris's attention 
to the performance with another playful 
touch in the ribs, 

If, following the example of the Shah, he 
writes a book on his visit to England, this 
episode is sure to have justice done to it. 
It will remain rooted in his memory as part 
of the process of legislation by the Mother 
of Parliaments. 

by Google 

Original from 

The First Men in the Moon. 

By H. G. Wells. 



AVOR'S face caught something 
of my dismay He stood up and 
stared about him at the scrub 
that fenced us in and rose 
about us y straining upward in 
a passion of growth. He put 
a dubious hand to his lips. He spoke with 
a sudden lack of assurance. " I think," he 
said, slowly, " we left it* ... . somewhere 
.... about there? 

He pointed a hesitating finger that wavered 
in an arc. 

" I'm not sure." His look of consterna- 
tion deepened. "Anyhow," he said, with 
his eyes on me, "it can't be far." 

We had both stood up. We made un- 
meaning ejaculations ; our eyes sought in the 
twining, thickening jungle round about us. 

All about us on the sunlit slopes frothed 
and swayed the darting shrubs, the swelling 
cactus, the creeping lichens, and wherever 
the shade remained the snowdrifts lingered. 
North, south, east, and west spread an iden- 
tical monotony of unfamiliar forms. And 
somewhere, buried already among this tangled 
confusion, was our sphere, our home, our only 
provision, our only hope of escape from this 
fantastic wilderness of ephemeral growths 
into which we had come. 

" I think, after all," he said, pointing sud- 
denly, " it might be oyer there." 

" No," I said. " V/e have turned in a 
curve. See ! here is the mark of my heels. 
It's clear the thing must be more to the east- 
ward, much more. No ! the sphere must be 
over there." 

44 1 think? said Cavor, " I kept the sun 
upon my right all the time." 

44 Every leap, it seems to me 9 n I said, " my 
shadow flew before me." 

We stared into one another's eyes. The 
area of the crater had become enormously 
vast to our imaginations, the growing thickets 
already impenetrably dense. 

44 Good heavens ! What fools we have 
been ! " 

44 It's evident that we must find it again," 
said Cavor, " and that soon. The sun grows 
stronger. We should be fainting with the 
heat already if it wasn't so dry. And .... 
I'm hungry." 

I stared at him. I had not suspected this 
aspect of the matter before. But it came to 

Copyright, l.y H. G. Wells, in 

me at once — a positive craving. "Yes," I 
said with emphasis, " I am hungry too." 

He stood up with a look of active resolu- 
tion. ' " Certainly we must find the sphere." 

As calmly as possible we surveyed the 
interminable reefs and thickets that formed 
the floor of the crater, each of us weighing in 
silence the chances of our finding the sphere 
before we were overtaken by heat and hunger. 

44 It can't be fifty .yards .from here," said 
Cavor, with indecisive gestures. " The only 
thing is to beat round about until we come 
upon it." 

44 That is all we can do," I said, without 
any alacrity to begin our hunt. " I wish this 
confounded spike bush did not grow so 
fast ! " 

44 That's just it," said Cavor. " But it was 
lying on a bank of snow." 

I stared about me in the vain hope of 
recognising some knoll or shrub that had 
been near the sphere. But everywhere was 
a confusing sameness, everywhere the aspiring 
bushes, the distending fungi, the dwindling 
snow-banks, steadily and inevitably changed. 
The sun scorched and stung ; the faintness of 
an unaccountable hunger mingled with our 
infinite perplexity. And even as we stood 
there, confused and lost amidst unprecedented 
things, we became aware for the first time of 
a sound upon the moon other than the stir 
of the growing plants, the faint sighing of the 
wind, or those that we ourselves had made. 

Boom . . . Boom . . . Boom . . . 

It came from beneath our feet, a sound in 
the earth. We seemed to hear it with our 
feet as much as with our ears. Its dull reso- 
nance was muffled by distance, thick with 
the quality of intervening substance. No 
sound that I can imagine could have 
astonished us more, or have changed more 
completely the quality of things about us. 
For this sound, rich, slow, and deliberate, 
seemed to us as though it could be nothing 
but the striking of some gigantic buried clock. 

Boom . . . Boom . . . Boom . . . 

Sound suggestive of still cloisters, of sleep- 
less nights in crowded cities, of vigils and the 
awaited hour, of all that is orderly and 
methodical in life, booming out pregnant and 
mysterious in this fantastic desert ! To the 
eye everything was unchanged ; the deso- 
lation of bushes and cacti waving silently in 
the wind stretched unbroken to the distant 
cliffs ; the still, dark sky was empty overhead, 

the United States of Amenta, i<k<* 




and the hot sun hung and burned. And 
through it all, p. warning, a threat, throbbed 
this enigma of sound. 

Boom , , * Boom . , . Boom , . . 

We questioned one another in faint and 
faded voices. " A 
clock ? " 

"Like a dock!" 

"What is it?" 

" What can it 

" Count," was 
CaYor's belated 
suggestion, and at 
that word the 
striking ceased. 

The silence, 
the rhythmic dis 
appointment of 
the silence, came 
as a fresh shock. 
For a moment 
one could doubt 
whether one had 
ever heard a 
sound. Or whether 
it might not still 
be going on ! Had 
I indeed heard a 
sound ? 

I felt the pres- 
sure of Cavor's 
hand upon my 
arm. He spoke 
in an undertone 
as though he 
feared to wake 
some sleeping 
thing- " Let u^ 
keep together," he 
whispered, "and 

must get back to the sphere. This is beyond 
our understanding." 

41 Which way shall we go ? " 

He hesitated. An intense persuasion of 
presences, of unseen things about us and 
near us, dominated our minds* What could 
they be ? Where could they be? Was this arid 
desolation, 'alternately frozen and scorched, 
only the outer rind and mask of some sub- 
terranean world ? And if so, what sort of 
world? What sort of inhabitants might it not 
presently disgorge upon us ? 

And then stabbing the aching stillness, as 
vivid and sudden as an unexpected thunder- 
clap, came a clang and rattle as though great 
gates of metal had suddenly been flung apart. 

It arrested our steps. We stood gaping 
helplessly. Then Cavor stole towards me. 

Vol. kaI,— 2t* 


look for the sphere. We 

4t I do not understand ! " he whispered, 
close to my face. He waved his hand 
vaguely skyward, the vague suggestion of 
Still vaguer thoughts. 

" A hiding-place ! If anything came " 

I looked about 
us. I nodded my 
head in assent to 

We started off, 
moving stealthily, 
with the most 
exaggerated pre- 
cautions against 
noise, We went 
towards a thicket 
of scrub, A 
clangour like 
hammers flung 
about a boiler 
hastened our 
steps. " We must 
crawl/' whispered 

The lower 
leaves of the 
bayonet plants, 
already over- 
shadowed by the 
newer ones above, 
were beginning to 
wilt and shrivel 
so that we could 
thrust our way 
in among the 
thickening stems 
without any 
serious injury. 
A stab in the 
face or arm we 
did not heed. At the heart of the thicket 
I stopped and stared panting into Cavor's 

u Subterranean," he whispered. " Below," 
4t They may come out." 
'* We must find the sphere ! " 
" Yes," I said, "but how?" 
" Crawl till we come to it." 
"Hut if we don't ? M 

" Keep hidden. See what they are like," 

"We will keep together/' said I. 

He thought. " Which way shall we go?" 

11 We must take our chance. " 

We peered this way and that. Then very 

circumspectly we began to crawl through the 

lower jungle, making so far as we could 

judge a circuit, halting now at every waving 

fungus, at every sound, intent only on the 

sphere from which we had so foolishly 

unginal from . 



emerged. Ever and again from out of the 
earth beneath us came concussions, beat- 
ings, strange, inexplicable, mechanical 
sounds, and once and then again we thought 
we heard something, a faint rattle and 
tumultj borne to us through the air. But 
fearful as we were we dared essay no vantage- 
point to survey the crater. For long we saw 
nothing of the beings whose sounds were so 
abundant and insistent. But for the faint- 
ness of our hunger and the drying of our 
throats that crawling would have had the 
quality of a very vivid dream. It was so 
absolutely unreal. The only element with 
any touch of reality was these sounds. 

Figure it to yourself! About us the 
dreamlike jungle, with the silent bayonet 
leaves darting overhead, and the silent, vivid, 
sun-splashed lichens under our hands and 
knees, waving with the vigour of their growth 
as a carpet waves when the wind gets beneath 
it. Ever and again one of the bladder 
fungi, bulging and distending under the 
sun, loomed upon us. Ever and again some 
novel shape in vivid colour obtruded. The 
very cells that built up these plants were as 
large as my thumb, like beads of coloured 
glass. And all these things were saturated 
in the unmitigated glare of the sun, were 
seen against a sky that was bluish-black and 
spangled still, in spite of the sunlight, with 
a few surviving stars. Strange ! the very 
forms and texture of the stones were strange. 
It was all strange : the feeling of one's 
body was unprecedented, every other m o ve- 
in en t ended 
in a surprise, 
The breath 
sucked thin in 
one's throat, 
the blood 
through one's 
ears in a throb- 
bin g tide, 
thud, thud, 
thud , thud * . , 

And e v e r 
and again 
came gusts of 
turmoil, ham- 
mering, the 
clanging and 
throb of ma- 
chinery, and 
presently — 
the bellowing 
of great 
beasts ! 



So we two poor terrestrial castaways, lost in 
that wild-growing moon jungle, crawled in 
terror before the sounds that had come 
upon us. We crawled as it seemed a long 
time before we saw either Selenite or moon- 
calf, though we heard the bellowing and 
gruntulous noises of these latter continually 
drawing nearer to us. We crawled through 
stony ravines, over snow slopes, amidst fungi 
that ripped like thin bladders at our thrust, 
emitting a watery humour; over a perfect 
pavement of things like puff halls and beneath 
interminable thickets of scrub. And ever 
more hopelessly our eyes sought for our 
abandoned sphere. The noise of the moon- 
calves would at times be a vast, flat, calf-like 
sound, at times it rose to an amazed and 
wrathy bellowing, and again it would become 
a clogged, bestial sound as though these un- 
seen creatures had sought to eat and bellow 
at the same time. 

Our first view was but zyi inadequate, 
transitory glimpse, yet none the less disturb- 
ing because it was incomplete. Cavor was 
crawling in front at the time, and he first was 
aware of their proximity. He stopped dead, 
arresting me with a single gesture. 

A crackling and smashing of the scrub ap- 
peared to be advancing directly upon us, and 
then, as we squatted close and endeavoured 
to judge of the nearness and direction of this 
noise, there came a terrific bellow behind us, 



Original from 



so close and vehement that the tops of the 
bayonet scrub bent before it, and one felt the 
breath of it hot and moist. And turning 
about we saw indistinctly through a crowd of 
swaying stems the mooncalf's shining sides 
and the long line of its back looming out 
against the sky. 

Of course it is hard for me now to say how 
much- 1 saw at that time, because my impres- 
sions were corrected by subsequent observa- 
tion. First of all impressions was its 
enormous size : the girth of its body was some 
fourscore feet, its length perhaps two hundred. 
Its sides rose and fell with its laboured 
breathing. I perceived that its gigantic 
flabby body lay along the ground and that its 
skin was of a corrugated white, dappling into 
blackness along the backbone. But of its 
feet we saw nothing. I think also that we 
saw then the profile at least of the almost 
brainless head, with its fat-encumbered neck, 
its slobbering, omnivorous mouth, its little 
nostrils, and tight shut eyes. (For the moon- 
calf invariably shut its eyes in the presence of 
the sun.) We had a glimpse of a vast red 
pit as it opened its mouth to bleat and 
bellow again, we had a breath from the pit, 
and then the monster heeled over like a ship, 
dragged forward along the ground, creasing 
all his leathery skin, rolled again, and so 
wallowed past us, smashing a path amidst 
the scrub, and was speedily hidden from 
our eyes by the dense interlacings beyond. 
Another appeared more distantly, and then 
another, and then, as though he was guiding 
these animated lumps of provender to their 
pasture, a Selenite came momentarily into 
ken. My grip upon Cavor's foot became 
convulsive at the sight of him, and we 
remained motionless and peering long after 
he had passed out of our range. 

By contrast with the mooncalves he seemed 
a trivial beirtg, a mere ant, scarcely 5ft. high. 
He was wearing garments of some leathery 
substance so that no portion of his actual 
body appeared — but of this of course we were 
entirely ignorant. He presented himself 
therefore as a compact bristling creature, 
having much of the quality of a complicated 
insect, with whip-like tentacles, and a clang- 
ing arm projecting from his shining cylindrical 
body-case. The form of his head was hidden 
by his enormous, many-spiked helmet— we 
discovered afterwards that he used the spikes 
for prodding refractory mooncalves — and a 
pair of goggles of darkened glass set very 
much at the side gave a bud-like quality to 
the metallic apparatus that covered his face. 
His arms did not project beyond his body- 

Digitized by G* 

case, and he carried himself upon short legs 
that, wrapped though they were in warm 
coverings, seemed to our terrestrial eyes in- 
ordinately flimsy. They had very short 
thighs, very long shanks, and little feet. 

In spite of his heavy-looking clothing he 
was progressing with what would be from the 
terrestrial point of view very considerable 
strides, and his clanging arm was busy. The 
quality of his motion during the instant of 
his passing suggested haste and a certain 
anger, and soon after we had lost sight of 
him we heard the bellow of a mooncalf 
change abruptly into a short sharp squeal, 
followed by the scuffle of its acceleration. 
And gradually that bellowing receded, and 
then came to an end, as if the pastures 
sought had been attained. 

We listened. For a space the moon world 
was still. But it was some time before we 
resumed our crawling search for the vanished 

When next we saw mooncalves they were 
some little distance away from us, in a place 
of tumbled rocks. The less vertical surfaces 
of the rocks were thick with a speckled green 
plant, growing in dense, mossy clumps, upon 
which these creatures were browsing. We 
stopped at the edge of the reeds, amidst 
which we were crawling, at the sight of them, 
peering out at them, and looking roun{l for a 
second glimpse of a Selenite. They lay 
against their food like stupendous slugs, 
huge, greasy hulls, eating greedily and noisily, 
with a sort of sobbing avidity. They seemed 
monsters of mere fatness, clumsy and over- 
whelmed to a degree that would make a 
Smithfield ox seem a model of agility. Their 
busy, writhing, chewing mouths, and eyes 
closed, together with the appetizing sound of 
their munching, made up an effect of animal 
enjoyment that was singularly stimulating to 
our empty frames. 

" Hogs ! " said Cavor, with unusual passion. 
" Disgusting hogs ! " and after one glare of 
angry envy crawled off through the bushes to 
our right. I stayed long enough to see that 
the speckled plant was quite hopeless for 
human nourishment, then crawled after him, 
nibbling a quill of it between my teeth; 

Presently we were arrested again by the 
proximity of a Selenite, and this time we 
were able to observe him more exactly. 
Now we could see that the Selenite covering 
was indeed clothing, and not a sort of 
crustacean integument. He was quite similar 
in his costume to the former one we had 
glimpsed, except that ends of something like 
wadding were protruding from his neck, and 

■_i 1 1 1 ti 1 1 1 -' 




he stood on a promontory of rock and moved 
his head this way and that as though he was 
surveying the crater. We lay quite still, fearing 
to attract his attention if we moved, and after 
a time he turned about and disappeared* 

We came upon another drove of moon- 
calves bellowing up a ravine, and then we 
passed over a place of sounds, sounds of 
beating machinery, as if some huge hall of 
industry came near the surface there. And 
while these sounds were still about us we came 
to the edge of a great open space, perhaps 
two hundred yards in diameter, and perfectly 
level. Save for a few lichens that advanced 
from its margin, this space was bare, and 
presented a powdery surface of a dusty 
yellow colour- We were afraid to strike out 
across this space, but as 
it presented less obstruction 
to our crawling than the 
scrub, we went down upon 
it and began very circum- 
spectly to skirt its edge. 

For a little while the 
noises from below ceased, 
and everything, save for the 
faint stir of the growing 
vegetation, was very still. 
Then abruptly there began 
an uproar, louder, more 
vehement, and nearer than 
any we had so far heard. 
Of a certainty it came from 
below- Instinctively we 
crouched as flat as we could, 
ready for a prompt plunge 
into the thicket beside us. 
Each knock and throb 
seemed to vibrate through our bodies. Louder 
grew this throbbing and beating, and that 
irregular vibration increased until the whole 
moon world seemed to be jerking and pulsing, 

"Cover," whispered Cavor, and I turned 
towards the bushes* 

At that instant came a thud like the thud 
of a gun T and then a thing happened- it 
still haunts me in my dreams, I had turned 
my head to look at Cavor's face, and thrust 
out my hand in front of me as I did so. And 
my hand met nothing ! Plunged suddenly 
into a bottomless hole ! 

My chest hit something hard, and I found 
myself with my chin on the edge of an un- 
fathomable abyss that had suddenly opened 
beneath me, my hand extended stiffly into 
the void The whole of that flat circular 
area was no more than a gignntic lid, that 
was now sliding sideways from off the pit it 
had covered into a slot prepared for it 

Had it not been for Cavor I think I 
should have remained rigid, hanging over 
this margin and staring into the enormous 
gulf below until at last the edges of the slot 
scraped me off and hurled me into its 
depths. But Cavor had not received the 
shock that had paralyzed me. He had been 
a little distance from the edge when the lid 
had first opened, and, perceiving the peril 
that held me helpless, gripped my legs and 
pulled me backward- I came into a sitting 
position, crawled away from the edge for a 
space on all fours, then staggered up and ran 
after him across the thundering, quivering sheet 
of metal. It seemed to be swinging open with 
a steadily-accelerated velocity, and the bushes 
in front of me shifted sideways as 1 ran. 

by Google 


I was none too soon, Cavor's back 
vanished amidst the bristling thicket, and as 
I scrambled up after him the monstrous 
valve came into its position with a clang. 
For a long time we lay panting, not daring 
to approach the pit. 

But at last> very cautiously, and bit by bit, 
we crept into a position from which we could 
peer down. The hushes about us creaked 
and waved with the force of a breeze that 
was blowing down the shaft. We could see 
nothing at first except smooth, vertical walls 
descending at last into an impenetrable black. 
And then very gradually we became aware of 
a number of very faint and little lights going 
to and fro. 

For a time that stupendous gulf of mystery 
held us so that we forgot even our sphere. 
In time as we grew more accustomed to the 
darkness we could make out very small, dim, 
illusive shapes moving about among those 
Original from 



needle - point illuminations. We peered, 
amazed and incredulous, understanding so 
little that we could find no words to say. 
We could distinguish nothing that would 
give us a clue to the meaning of the faint 
shapes we saw. 

" What can it be ? " I asked ; " what can 
it be?" 

" The engineering ! . . . . They must live 
in these caverns during the night and come 
out during the day." 

" Cavor ! " I said. " Can they be— that— 
it was something like — men ? " 

" That was not a man." 

" We dare risk nothing ! " 

" We dare do nothing until we find the 

He assented with a groan and stirred him- 
self to move. He stared about him for a 
space, sighed, and indicated a direction. We 
struck out through the jungle. For a time 
we crawled resolutely, then with diminishing 
vigour. Presently among great shapes of 
flabby purple there came a noise of trampling 
and cries about us. We lay close, and for a 
long time the sounds went to and fro and 
very near. But this time we saw nothing. 
I tried to whisper to Cavor that I could 
hardly go without food much longer, but my 
mouth had become too dry for whispering. 

" Cavor," I said, " I must have food." 

He turned a face full of dismay towards 
me. "It's a case for holding out," he said. 

" But I must" I said ; " and look at mv 
lips ! " 

" I've been thirsty some time." 

"If only some of that snow had remained !" 

" It's clean gone ! We're driving from 
Arctic to tropical at the rate of a degree a 
minute. . . ." 

I gnawed my hand. 

" The sphere ! " he said. " There is 
nothing for it but the sphere." We roused 
ourselves to another spurt of crawling. My 
mind ran entirely on edible things, on the 
hissing profundity of summer drinks ; more 
particularly I craved for beer. I was haunted 
by the memory of an eighteen-gallon cask that 
had swaggered in my Lympne cellar. I 
thought of the adjacent larder, and especially 
of steak and kidney pie — tender steak and 
plenty of kidney, and rich, thick gravy 
between. Ever and again I was seized with 
.fits of hungry yawning. We came to flat 
places overgrown with fleshy red things, 
monstrous coralline growths ; as we pushed 
against them they snapped and broke. I 
noted the quality of the broken surfaces. 
The confounded stuff certainly looked of a 

Digitized byG< 

biteable texture. Then it seemed to me that 
it smelt rather well. 

I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. 

" Cavor," I said, in a hoarse undertone. 

He glanced at me with his face screwed 
up. " Don't," he said. I put down the 
fragment, and we crawled on through this 
tempting fleshiness for a space. 

"Cavor," I asked, "why nott" 

" Poison," I heard him say, but he did not 
look round. 

We crawled some way before I decided. 

"I'll chance it," said I. 

He made a belated gesture to prevent me. 
I stuffed my mouth full. He crouched, 
watching my face, his own twisted into the 
oddest expression. " It's good," I said. 

" Oh, Lord ! " he cried. 

He watched me munch, his face wrinkled 
between desire and disapproval, then suddenly 
succumbed to appetite, and began to tear off 
huge mouthfuls. For a time we did nothing 
but eat. 

The stuff was not unlike a terrestrial mush- 
room, only it was much laxer in texture, and 
as one swallowed it it warmed the throat. 
At first we experienced a mere mechanical 
satisfaction in eating. Then our blood began 
to run warmer, and we tingled at the lips and 
fingers, and then new and slightly irrelevant 
ideas came bubbling up in our minds. 

" It's good," said I. " Infernally good ! 
What a home for our surplus population ! 
Our poor surplus population," and I broke 
off another large portion. 

It filled me with a curiously benevolent 
satisfaction that there was such good food in 
the moon. The depression of my hunger gave 
way to an irrational exhilaration. The dread 
and discomfort in which I had been living 
vanished entirely. I perceived the moon no 
longer as a planet from which I most 
earnestly desired the means of escape, but as 
a possible refuge for human destitution. I 
think I forgot the Selenites, the mooncalves, 
the lid, and the noises completely so soon as 
I had eaten that fungus. 

Cavor replied to my third repetition of 
my " surplus population " remark with 
similar words of approval. I felt that my 
head swam, but I put this down to the 
stimulating effect of food after a long fast. 
" Ess'lent discov'ry, yours, Cavor," said I. 
" Se'nd on'y to the 'tato." 

" Whajer mean ? " asked Cavor. " 'Scovery 
of the moon — se'nd on'y to the 'tato ? " 

I looked at him, shocked at his suddenly 
hoarse voice and by the badness of his arti- 
culation. It occurred to me in a flash that 


1 66 


he was intoxicated, possibly by the fungus 
It also occurred to me that he erred in 
imagining that he had discovered the moon 
— he had not discovered it, he had only 
reached it. I tried to lay rny hand on his 
arm and explain this to him, but the issue 
was too subtle for his brain. It was also un- 
expectedly difficult to express. After a 
momentary attempt to understand me — I re- 
member wondering if the fungus had made 
my eyes as fishy as his — he set off upon some 
observations on his 
own account 

'* We are," he an- 
nounced, with a 
solemn hiccup, '* the 
creashurs o* what we 
eat and drink*" 

He repeated this, 
and as I was now in 
one of my subtle 
moods I determined 
to dispute it. Possibly 
I wandered a little 
from the poinL But 
Cavor certainly did 
not attend at all pro- 
perly. He stood up 
as well as he could, 
putting a hand on my 
head to steady him- 
self, which was dis- 
respectful, and stood 
staring about him, 
quite devoid now of 
any fear of the moon 

I tried to point out 
that this was dan- 
gerous, for some 
reason that was not 
perfectly clear to me ; 
but the word "dan- 
gerous" had somehow 
got mixed with "in- 
discreet/ 1 and came 
out rather more like 
"injurious ,J than either, and after an attempt 
to disentangle them I resumed my argument, 
addressing myself principally to the unfamiliar 
but attentive coralline growths on cither side. 
I felt that it was necessary to clear up this 
confusion between the moon and a potato at 
once — I wandered into a long parenthesis on 
the importance of precision of definition in 
argument. I did my best to ignore the fact 
that my bodily sensations were no longer 

In some way that I have now forgotten my 

Digitized by GOOQIC 

mind was led back to projects of coloniza- 
tion. u We must annex this moon/' I said. 
(i There must be no shilly-shally. This is 
part of the White Man's Burthen. Cavor — 
we a re — hie — Sa tap — m ea n Satraps! X e m - 
pire Ciesar never dreamt B'in all the news- 
papers. Cavorecia. Bedfordecia. Bedford- 
ecia. Hie — - Limited. Mean — unlimited ! 

Certainly I was intoxicated, I embarked 
upon an argument to show the infinite benefits 

our arrival would 
confer upon the 
moon. I involved 
myself in a rather 
difficult proof that the 
arrival of Columbus 
was, after all, bene- 
ficial to America. I 
found I had forgotten 
the line of argument 
1 had intended to 
pursue,and continued 
to repeat "simlar to 
Clumbus " to fill up 

From that point 
my memory of the 
action of that abomin- 
able fungus becomes 
confused. I remem- 
ber vaguely that we 
declared our intention 
of standing no non- 
sense from any con- 
founded insects, that 
we decided it ill be- 
came men to hide 
shamefully upon a 
mere satellite, that we 
eq ui pped ourselves 
with huge armfuls of 
the fungus whether 
for missile purposes 
or not I do not know 
— and, heedless of the 
stabs of the bayonet 
shrub, we started forth into the sunshine, 

Almost immediately we must have come 
upon the Seleuites. There were six of 
them, and they were marching in single 
file over a rocky place, making the most 
remarkable piping and whining sounds. They 
all seemed to become aware of us at once, all 
instantly became silent and motionless like 
animals, with their faces turned towards us. 
For a moment I was sobered. 
"Insects," murmured Cavor, "insects! — 
and they think I'm going to crawl about on 
Original From 


tit- STOOD UP AS WfiLl, AS HE cori.T. 



my stomach — on my ver- 
tebrated stomach ! 

" Stomach " he repeated, 
slowly, as though he chewed 
the indignity. 

Then suddenly, with a 
shout of fury, he made three 
vast strides and leapt to- 
wards them- He leapt 
badly, he made a series of 
somersaults in the air, 
whirled right over them, 
and vanished with an enor- 
mous splash amidst the 
cactus bladders. What the 
Selenites made of this 
amazing, and to my mind 
undignified, irruption from 
another planet, I have no 
means of guessing, I seem 
to remember the sight of 
their backs as they ran in 
all directions — but I am 
not sure. All these last 
incidents before oblivion 
came are vague and faint 
in my mind. I know I 
made a step to follow 
Cavor, and tripped 
and fell headlong among 
rocks. I was, I 
certain, suddenly 
vehemently ill I 
seem to remember a 
violent struggle, and 
being gripped by metallic clasps, 


My next clear recollection is that we were 
prisoners at we knew not what depth beneath 
the moon's surface; we were in darkness 
amidst strange, districting noises ; our bodies 
were covered with scratches and bruises, and 
our heads racked with pain. 




I found myself sitting crouched together in 
a tumultuous darkness. For a long time I 
could not understand where I was nor how I 
had come to this perplexity* I thought of 
the cupboard into which I had been thrust 
at times when I was a child, and then of 
a very dark and noisy bedroom in which I 
had slept during an illness. But these 
sounds about me were not the noises I had 
known, and there was a thin flavour in the 
air like the wind of a stable. Then I sup- 
posed we must still be at work upon the 
sphere, and that somehow I had got into the 

Digitized by G* 

cellar of Cavor's house* I remembered we 
had finished the sphere, and fancied I must 
still be in it and travelling through space* 

"Cavor," I said, "cannot we have some 

There came no answer. 

" Cavor ! " 1 insisted* 

I was answered by a groan. ** My head ! " 
I heard him say, u my head ! fi 

I attempted to press my hands to my 
brow, which ached, and discovered they were 
tied together* This startled me very much. 
I brought them up to my mouth and felt 
the cold smoothness of metal They were 
chained together. I tried to separate my 
legs and made out they were similarly 
fastened, and also that I was fastened to the 
ground by a much thicker chain about the 
middle of my body. 

I was more frightened than I had yet been 
by anything in all our strange experiences. 
For a time I tugged silently at my bonds* 
"Cavor!" I cried out, sharply, "why am I tied ? 
Why have jrou tied me hand and foot ? " 
Original from 




" I haven't tied you," he answered. " It's 
the Selenites." 

The Selenites ! My mind hung on that 
for a space. Then my memories came back 
to me : the snowy desolation, the thawing of 
the air, the growth of the plants, our strange 
hopping and crawling among the rocks and 
vegetation of the crater. All the distress of 
our frantic search for the sphere returned to 
me. . . . Finally the opening of the great 
lid that covered the pit ! 

Then as I strained to trace our later move- 
ments down to our present plight the pain 
in my head became intolerable. I came to an 
insurmountable barney an obstinate blank. 


" Yes." 

"Where are we?" 

" How should I know ? " 

" Are we dead ? " 

14 What nonsense ! " 

44 They've got us, then ! " 

He made no answer but a grunt. The 
lingering traces of the poison seemed to 
make him oddly irritable. 

44 What do you mean to do ?" 

44 How should I know what to do ? " 

44 Oh, very well," said I, and became 
silent. Presently I was roused from a 
stupor. "Oh, Lard!" I cried, "I wish 
you'd stop that buzzing." 

We lapsed into silence again, listening to 
the dull confusion of noises like the muffled 
sounds of a street or factory that filled 
our ears. I could make nothing of it ; 
my mind pursued first one rhythm and 
then another, and questioned it in vain. 
But after a long time I became aware 
of a new and sharper element, not 
mingling with the rest, but standing out, as 
it were, against that cloudy background of 
sound. It was a series of relatively very 
little definite sounds, tappings and rubbings 
like a loose spray of ivy against a window or 
a bird moving about upon a box. We 
listened and peered about us, but the dark- 
ness was a velvet pall. There followed a 
noise like the subtle movement of the wards 
of a well-oiled lock. And then there 
appeared before me, hanging as it seemed in 
an immensity of black, a thin bright line. 

44 Look ! " whispered Cavor, very softly. 

44 What is it ? " 

44 1 don't know." 

We stared. 

The thin bright line became a band and 
broader and paler. It took upon itself the 
quality of a bluish light falling upon a white- 
washed wall. It ceased to be parallel sided ; 

by C^OOgle 

it developed a deep indentation on one side. 
I turned to remark this to Cavor, and was 
amazed to see his ear in a brilliant illumina- 
tion — all the rest of him in shadow. I 
twisted my head round as well as my bonds 
would permit. "Cavor ! " I said, "it's behind!" 

His ear vanished — gave place to an eye ! 

Suddenly the crack that had been admitting 
the light broadened out and revealed itself as 
the space of an opening door. Beyond was 
a sapphire vista, and in the doorway stood a 
grotesque outline silhouetted against the glare. 

We both made convulsive efforts to turn, 
and, failing, sat staring over our shoulders at 
this. My first impression was of some 
clumsy quadruped with lowered head. Then 
I perceived it was the slender, pinched body 
and short and extremely attenuated bandy legs 
of a Selenite, with his head depressed between 
his'shoulders. He was without the helmet and 
body-covering they wear upon the exterior. 

He was a blank black figure to us, but 
instinctively our imaginations supplied fea- 
tures to his very human outline. I at least took 
it instantly thathe was somewhat hunchbacked, 
with a high forehead and long features. 

He came forward three steps and paused 
for a time. His movements seemed abso- 
lutely noiseless. Then he came forward 
again. He walked like a bird — his feet fell 
one in front of the other. He stepped out of 
the ray of light that came through the door- 
way, and it seemed as though he vanished 
altogether in the shadow. 

For a moment my eyes sought him in the 
wrong place, and then I perceived him stand- 
ing facing us both in the full light. Only 
the human features I had attributed to him 
were not there at all ! The front of his face 
was a gap. 

Of course I ought to have expected that, 
only I didn't. It came to me as an absolute, 
for a moment an overwhelming, shock. It 
seemed as though it wasn't a face ; as 
though it must needs be a mark, a horror, 
a deformity that would presently be dis- 
avowed or explained. 

It was rather like a visored helmet . . . 
But I can't explain the thing. Have you 
ever seen the face of some insect greatly 
magnified? There was no nose, no expres- 
sion, it was all shiny and hard and invariable, 
with bulging eyes — in the silhouette I had 
supposed they were ears ... I have tried to 
draw one of these heads, but I cannot The 
point one cannot get is the horrible want of 
expression, or rather the horrible want of 
change of expression. Every head and 
face a man meets with on earth in 




the usual way resorts to 
expression. This was 
like being stared at 
suddenly by an engine. 
There the thing was, 
looking at us ! 

But when I say there 
was a want of change of 
expression I do not mean 
that there was not a sort 
of set expression on the 
face — just as there is a 
sort of set expression 
about a coal-scuttle, or 
a chimney -cowl, or the 
ventilator of a steam* 
ship. There was a 
mouth, downwardly 
curved, like a human 
mouth in a face that 
stares ferociously. . . . 

The neck on which 
the head was poised 
was jointed in three 
places j almost like the 
short joints in the leg 
of a crab. The joints 
of the limbs I could 
not see because of the 
puttee - like straps in 
winch they were swathed, 
and which formed 
the only clothing this 
being wore* 

At the time my 
mind was taken up by 
sibility of the creature, 
also was amazed— and with more reason, 
perhaps, for amazement thjn we* Only, 
confound him, he did not show it. We did 
at least know what had brought about tins 
meeting of incompatible creatures. But 
conceive how it would seem to decent 
Londoners, for example, to come upon a 
couple of living things, as big as men and abso- 
lutely unlike any other earthly animals, career- 
ing about among the sheep in Hyde Park ! 

It must have taken him like that. 

Figure us ! We were bound hand and 
foot, fagged and fill by, our beards two 
inches long, our faces scratched and bloody. 
Cavor you must imagine in his knickerbockers 
(torn in several places by the bayonet scrub), 
his Jaeger shirt and old cricket cap, his wiry 
hair wildly disordered, a tail to every quarter 
of the heavens. In that blue light his face 



mad impos- 
suppose he 


did not look red, but very dark ; his lips and 
the drying blood upon his hands seemed 
black, If possible, I was in a worse plight 
than he, on account of the yellow fungus into 
which I had jumped. Our jackets were 
unbuttoned, and our shoes had been taken 
off and lay at our feet. And we were sitting 
with our backs to the queer, bluish light 
peering at such a monster as Diirer might 
have invented, 

Cavor broke the silence, started to speak, 
went hoarse, and cleared his throat Out- 
side began a terrific bellowing, as if a moon- 
calf were in trouble. It ended in a shriek, 
and everything was still again. 

Presently the Sclenite turned about, 
flickered into the shadow, stood for a 
moment retrospective at the door, and then 
closed it on us, and once more we were in 
that murmurous mystery of darkness into 
which w T e had awakened. 

Vol. M L.~22. 




How the Victoria Cross is Made. 

With photographs taken by Gtorge Newnes^ Ltd, 

OME see the D&Ipkin*s an- 
chor forged." That was the 
invitation of a poet Mine, 
however, is for a subject of 
much less magnitude, yet of 
fur greater value* I ask you 
to accompany me in your imagination to see 
made the little bronze cross which, insignifi- 
cant in money worth though it be T is yet, in 
the estimation of the nation and cf the 
world, the most priceless which the British 
Sovereign can bestow. No wealth can 
purchase it ; no Prince of the most 
Imperial purple can, with all his pride of 
place j procure the privilege of wearing 
it suspended among the insignia of the 
orders which blaze upon his breast It must 
be won as it is worn, worthily, and it marks 
the wearer as a king among his fellows 
though he be only a private in the Army, a 
bluejacket in the Navy, or the least con- 
sidered of the non-combatants in the world, 
" For valour I " That is its motto. That 
is the inspiration of its award. It can only 
be won by him who is not merely not afraid 
to look on the face of death, but is willing 
to dare the King of Terrors and try a fall 
with him, with the odds in favour of the grim 
conqueror coming off victorious. 

It is not yet fifty years old, for it was 
instituted, as anyone may see who cares to 
turn up the records, by a Royal warrant 
dated January 
29th, 1856, at the 
end of the Cri- 
mean War, and 
its design is un- 
derstood to have 
been made by no 
less a personage 
than the artist 
hand of the la- 
mented Prince 

Its object was> 
as everyone 
knows, "to place 
all persons on a 
perfectly equal 
footing in relation 
to eligibility for 

the decoration, tiiat neither rank, nor 
long service, nor wounds, nor any other 
circumstance or condition whatever save 
the merit of conspicuous bravery shall 
be held to establish a sufficient claim to 
the honour n — qualifications which were, 
on April 23rd* 1 88 1, more clearly defined 
as u conspicuous bravery or devotion to 
the country in the presence of the enemy y 
— the condition which makes the youngest 
private the equal of the Commander-in-Chief 
himself and binds them in the brotherhood 
of blood bravery when the bronze Cross 
hangs upon their breast. 

Whenever occasion calls for the bestowal 
of the cross the War Office sends a written 
order to Messrs. Hancocks and Co + , of New 
Bond Street, silversmiths to the Queen, for 
the number required. The order invariably 
states that they are to be made the " same as 
before/* an almost superfluous instruction, 
one would think* for it is hardly within the 
region of speculative politics that any jeweller 
would be found bold enough to vary the 
pattern, least of all the firm which has always 
made the crosses and preserves all the tradi- 
tions of the manufacture as carefully and as 
worthily as they deserve. 

With the order for making crosses there is 
sent a supply of bronze which once formed 
part of some Russian guns taken in the 
Crimea. lf T however, as sometimes happens, 


K K 




the jewellers have a supply of the metal left 
over, the War Office waits until that is used 
before sending another supply. Until the 
last time the metal has always been sent 
in rough lumps of various irregular shapes, 
but the last lot consisted of two cylindrical 
bars packed in a wooden box as represented 
in the illustration on the preceding page. 
These bars were, for some reason, covered 
with paint, one a very dark green and the 
other khaki colour, but the bright copper 
yellow lustre of the metal could easily be 
seen at the two ends, which were not painted. 

The process of the manufacture of the 
Victoria Cross is entirely different from that 
of all other tfar medals and decorations. 
Although, therefore, their intrinsic worth is 
practically nothing* for the worth of the 
bronze would not exceed a few pence at the 
most, yet the cost of production rs relatively 
considerable. Indeed, it has often happened 
that in the auction-room, to which necessity 
or some circumstance of another character 
has brought the bronze M badge of courage," 
the collector has willingly paid for the 
emblem which he is not privileged to wear 
a sum a hundred times greater than it 
originally cost to produce. 

In the case of the ordinary medals, steel 
dies are made and the articles are stamped 
up complete wtfh one blow of the press, so 
that they can be turned out by the hundreds 
and thousands with little or no trouble at all 
For the Victoria 
Cross, however, no 
dies are in exis- 
tence to produce 
them by the score, 
much less in larger 
numbers, Each 
one is, in fact, 
made separately 
and goes through a 
certain number of 
manual processes, 
which culminate in 
the production of 
what is really a work 
of art. This h as it 
should be to mark 
out its possessor as 
different from his 
companions who, 
without undervalu- 
ing in any way their 
services or their 
danger and devo- 
tion, have merely 
shared with all 

their other comrades the brunt of the 

The bronze used is of a very hard quality, 
and as a record is kept by the Government 
of the quantity supplied and the number of 
crosses which are made, it has all to be 
accounted for, allowance being naturally 
made for the waste which is inevitable. For 
this reason the bronze is weighed out to the 
workmen with as much care as if it were 
one of the precious metals like gold or 

The first operation in connection with 
the manufacture takes place in the foundry 
where the cross IS cast. The first cross was 
modelled by the artist in a hard wax from 
w f hich a model pattern was cast. This was 
preserved with great care, and from this 
pattern moulds are made in specially pre- 
pared sand, which is capable of retaining 
a good impression. These moulds, which, it 
need hardly be said, are made in two parts, 
are allowed to become thoroughly dry and 
hard, and the surfaces are prepared with 
plumbago to give them additional smooth- 

The sand is packed in a little iron case made 
in two halves interlocking very closely and ac- 
curately, and at the upper part of each half of 
the case is a semicircular hollow which, when 
the two halves are joined, forms a complete 
circle. When the mould is got ready a piece 
of wood is placed in the sand, and when the 

by Google 



1 7 2 



two ends of the case are brought together 
and joined the wood is removed, thus leav- 
ing a tube connecting directly with the 
mould of the medal so that the liquid metal 
may be poured into it. 

Thus prepared, the mould is placed in a 
large iron bath, so that in case any of the 
metal is spilt in pouring it may be readily 
recovered. The bronze is melted in crucibles 
of clay or plumbago placed in a powerful 
draught furnace. 

The temperature of this is somewhere 
about 2,ooodeg. Fahr., a heat almost intoler- 
able for the ordinary individual even to 
come near. In spite of this, however* the 
operator watches carefully for the melting of 
the bronze When it becomes liquid he 
withdraws the white-hot pot by means of a 
pair of long tongs, and pours me molten 
liquid into the moulds with as much dexterity 
and with, as a rule, as little loss as a lady 
pours out a cup of tea in the afternoon. 

Although, to the untrained individual, it 
may seem quite easy, it nevertheless requires 
great judgment to get the metal at exactly 
the right temperature, and only practice docs 
that If the bronze is too hot it burns, and 
the zinc and tin evaporate, giving off noxious 
and dangerous fumes, at the same time 
altering the composition of the alloy, If, on 
the other hand, the bronze is not hot 
enough it does not flow readily, and 
so fails to fill up the interstices of the 
mould accurately. Even with the 
employment of workmen who have 
made the cross for many years, it 
often happens that when the meial 
is cooled and the moulds are broken 
many of the medals are found to be 

imperfect, and have to be re-melted and 
cast a second time over. The same is true 
with regard to the bar decorated with laurel 
leaves, to which the letter " V " is attached, 
and which is made in exactly the same way 
as the cross, but separately from it. 

On taking the cross from the mould it is 
quite easy to sec a thin, rough line along the 
edges where the tw T o halves of the mould 
have joined* This is always intensified in 
places where the metal has run, and gives 
the medal a distinctly rough appearance at 
the edges. The design, too, is dull and flat, 
and is anything but sharp, while the colour 
is like that of a dirty penny, Each of these 
defects has to be remedied in turn. For this 
they are sent from the foundry to the factory, 
where they are examined carefully, and all 
the faulty places are repaired. 

The first thing is to make the edges true 
and smooth. This is done by hand and 
with a file, but it is not easy work on account 
of the hardness of the metal. After the 
edges are smoothed the workman drills a 
hole at the top of the cross for the ring 
which connects it with the bar. 

While now perfect as to shape, the surface 
still remains rough and entirely lacking in 
the detail of the finished cross. To produce 
this the medal is sent to the chaser, who 
embeds it in a ball of pitch on an iron bullet 
in order to keep it steady. With variously 
shaped punches and a small hammer he goes 
carefully over the whole surface, back and 
front, until all the detail is brought up and 
the design appears in bold relief from the 
matted ground-work. 

In this process, too, the letters are brought 
into sharp relief, the tufts of hair on the 
mane and tail of the lion are engraved, and 

\ \ 

by LiOOglC 






J 73 

the effect of 
the different 
portions of the 
crown is height- 
ened. By the 
time the cross 
leaves the 
chaser's hand 
it looks quite 
different from 
what it did 
when he re- 
ceived It, as 
will be seen 
by comparing 
the two illus- 
trations show- 
ing the cross 
just after casting and when it is complete. 

This chasing process, insignificant though 
it may appear, is a matter of several hours' 
hard work to a good man, who dare not, 
even if lie would, neglect his task, for each 
cross when it is finished has to be submitted 
to the War Office for its inspection. The 
same processes are gone through with the 
making of the bar, and when the chasing of 
both is entirely satisfactory they are sent to 
be bronzed by treatment with various acids 
until the uniformly dark tone so well known is 
given to them. 
Then the 
top bar with 
its steel pins 
and connect- 
ing ring are 
put together : 
the ribbon, 
which is red 
for the Army 
and non-com- 
batants and 
blue for the 
Navy, is at- 
tached, and the 
cross is ready 


for delivery to 
the War Office, 
Even then, 
however, the 
jeweller's work 
is not finished, 
for each cross 
is sent back to 
Messrs. Han- 
cocks and Co. 
in order to 
have the name 
of the recipi- 
ent and the 
date on which 
he won it en- 
graved upon it. 
The name and 
rank of the man arc cut on one line on 
the bar and the name of the regiment in 
another immediately under it, thus : — 

[Olh Ifusscrs ; 

and in the semicircular part of the cross at 
the back are the day, the month, and the 
year of the deed of conspicuous bravery set 
out in three lines, as is seen in the illustration. 
As it hangs on the breast of the hero it adorns 

the cross, with 
ribbon ^ bar, 
and pin com- 
plete, weighs 
less than ioz. : 
about 4J52grs., 
or *902. to l>e 
accurate- Of 
this the cross 
itself takes as 
nearly as pos- 
sible 240grs., 
the bar 72grs* T 
and the ribbon 
and pin the re- 


by Google 


Original from 

The Pandora. 

From ThE French or Charles Foley. Bv Alvs Hallard. 

ES 3 Jean Mirol certainly is 
a fine, kind-hearted fellow, 
said Chatry, after we had all 
been sounding the praises 
of the celebrated sculptor. 
All that you have just 
been telling about his early days and his 
heroic struggles to get on and to make a 
name proves his energetic character. I 
could tell you, though, 
an episodGj simple 
enough certainly, hut 
which shows how un- 
selfish and noble he 
is in the midst of his 
present glory and 

We became friends, 
thanks to several of my 
articles, in which I had 
expressed opinions 
with which he agreed. 
We lived quite near 
each uther, and in the 
evenings he would 
often come in after 
dinner to have a chat 
with me, I used to 
walk back with him 
when he went home, 
and sometimes I would 
go up to his studio 
and we would con- 
tinue our conversa- 
tions on art until quite 
late in the night. 

The studio was on 
the fifth story of the 
house, and adjoining 

it was the flat in which the sculptor lived 
with his mother. The poor old lady 
scarcely ever left the house, as she had 
become blind and was obliged to grope her 
way about, so that she was terrified when she 
went outdoors even with her son. 

She was never happy or at ease anywhere 
except in this flat. She had lived there for 
years, and of course knew every nook and 
corner, and could lay her hand on anything 
she wanted. She would walk about back- 
wards and forwards without knocking against 
the furniture, and was so brisk in her move- 
ments that one was apt to forget she had 

Digitized by GoOglc 


lost her eyesight Like most blind people 
she was always groping about, picking things 
up and turning them over in her fingers, 
feeling the shape of them in order to get an 
idea of everything she could not see* 

Nearly every day Jean used to bring back 
to his studio something that he had picked 
up at curiosity shops, and the room was so 
full of these things thut it looked like a 
regular bric-i-brac 
warehouse with all the 
boxes and packing- 
cases about- Knowing 
his mother's habit of 
groping abou t, and 
fearing lest she might 
stumble over the cases, 
he begged her never 
to go into the studio 
when he was absent 
This was not the only 
precaution he took for 
the sake of his poor 
old mother. When 
in her presence her 
son's friends spoke 
of Jean's works it 
always made her sad, 
** How hard it is," she 
would say, " that I 
cannot see my son's 
statues, when every- 
one else is admiring 
them." And then she 
would have a fit of 
pro f o u n d silence and 

In consequence of 
this Mirol left off 
speaking of his work and his projects when 
his mother was present, and it was an under- 
stood thing with his intimate friends that the 
subject should be avoided. This constraint 
was nevertheless painful to the artist, and it 
was no doubt on account of it that he came 
so frequently to see me in the evenings. 
For several months he had been extremely 
absent-minded and pensive, haunted by an 
inspiration which had come to him and of 
which he gave me a vague idea, He was 
meditating on the expression for a Pandora, 
the altitude of which he had decided on. 
He had tried several models, had made a 




hundred different sketches, and had thought 
it out carefully, but it was all in vain ; he 
could not find the right expression for this 
complex character. 

One evening he arrived in high spirits ; 
perfectly exuberant, in fact, 

" I have it ! " he exclaimed, as he entered 
the room, "The inspiration has come to me 
at last. For the last eight months I have 
been longing for it, and all at once, quite 
suddenly, it 
came. I don't 
know how it 
was — but there 
it is , . . * fin- 
ished * ... I 
shall not touch 
it again , . . , 
I am so de- 
lighted about 
it — oh, so de- 
lighted, I could 
not even resist 
telling my 
mother . . . , 
I am positively 
suffocating with 
the joy of it 
* ♦ , . Come 
out with me 
and let us 
have some 
fresh air." 

He was in 
a perfect 
frenzy of ex- 
citement, just 
like some 
lover who had 
finally been 
accepted when 
he was on the 
brink of des- 
pair. I took 

my hat and followed him downstairs. 
When once we were in the street he 
put his arm through mine and hurried 
me along, telling me all the time how 
he had worked and waited, how he had 
hoped and despaired, going through a perfect 
torment until that day when the miracle h^d 
taken place, and the idea had been freed 
from the mist which surrounded it, so that 
he had seen clearly in a sudden ray of sun- 
shine just what he had to depict — the glance, 
the smile, the whole face. And whilst under 
the intoxicating influence of his conception 
he had realized all this with a few touches to 
the clay, 


by Google 

" It is my masterpiece ! " he exclaimed. 
" Yes, this time I can feel that it is my 
masterpiece ! n 

He spoke in the most excited way, wild 
with joy, giving vent all at once to what had 
been fermenting m his brain during eight 
months of silence and meditation. He 
went on walking, chattering as though he 
would never cease, until, simply with listen- 
ing to him and endeavouring to keep up 
with his giant strides, I 
was perfec t ly br eat h I e ss. 
Then, suddenly, in the 
midst of his enthusiasm, 
he stopped short 

"All that I have told 

you will never make you 

understand or even give 

you the faintest idea of 

Pandora, Come and 


And in the 
same wild hurry 
he took me to 
his home. 

and panting I 
followed him 
up the five 
flights of stairs, 
and when he 
reached the 
landing with 
the two doors 
I saw him bend 
forward in a 
listening atti- 

"I can hear 
my mother," he 
said, frowning 
with annoyance 
and anxiety; 
" what in the 
world is she doing here ? I have asked her 
never to come here during my absence. It 

is to be hoped " 

He did not finish the sentence, but, taking 
his keys from his pocket, opened the studio 
door and entered. There was a noise of 
something being knocked down, a cry of 
anguish, and then perfect silence. 

With a bound I sprang up the last few 
stairs and rushed into the studio, 

Mirol, fearfully pale and completely over- 
come, was leaning against the wall. He 
could not find a word to utter in his intense 
grief. His poor old mother, her face as pale 
as his, was standing in the middle of the 


i 7 6 


room, trembling all over, her hinds clasped 
in supplication. Between them, and just in 
front of the overturned stool, lay a lump of 
clay, a shapeless mass, completely flattened 
out in its wet clothes* 

I understood at once this silent scene of a 

desolation of that poor old face, all wrinkled 
with grief, made a great effort, and shook off 
the nightmare-like torpor which had taken 
possession of him. 

"No ! " he exclaimed, in a voice that was 
so calm and good-tempered that I, too, 


drama, which to anyone else would have 
seemed meaningless, but which appeared 
almost tragic to me, knowing, as I did, all 
that it involved. 

On hearing her son coming in unexpectedly, 
conscious of having disobeyed him and of 
being caught satisfying her curiosity, poor 
Madame Mirol had completely lost her head 
and forgotten all precautions* 

In her haste to escape, and to get out of 
the studio before her son should discover 
her, she had knocked against one of the 
stools and upset it. 

The silence was poignant. The poor 
blind woman stood there, shivering in every 
limb with anxiety, her hands uplifted, her 
face haggard and so terribly pale in the 
shaded studio that even I felt an immense 
pity for her. 

"Oh, Jean ! 1J she said at last, in a changed 
voice — a voice tremulous with terror — "tell 
me quickly — tell me — it is not your Pandora, 
is it?" 

And Jean, seeing the distress and utter 

felt immensely relieved. ** Oh, no, thank 
Heaven, it is not Pandora-- no, it is only a 
study in the rough — just a bust. But you 
did give me a fright, mother ! " 

The old lady's cheeks flushed with joy, and 
she let her arms fall, with a sigh of relief. 

" Oh, how glad I am, how glad I am that 
it is not irreparable. Oh, Jean, I will never 
come into your studio again alone — I promise 
you that, Kiss me, my boy, to show me that 
you have forgiven me ! n 

The big, brave fellow stepped across 
the room to kiss her, and as he passed me 
he pointed to the crumbled clay and 
whispered : — 

" Throw all that into the bucket, will you ? 
— I should never have the courage to touch 
it — it would break my heart Mind you 
never tell the poor old lady what it was, it 
would make her too unhappy.'' 

He blinked as he spoke to keep two tears 
from falling, and I understood that he had 
not told her the truth, and that this was his 

by Google 

Original from 

A Campaign Against Avalanches. 

By A. De Burgh. 

Illustrated by special permission by photographs the property of the Austrian State Railways. 

F the various railways con- 
structed through the Alps none 
is more interesting, more pic- 
turesque, or more important 
than the Arlberg Railway, 
which forms a short connection 
between four countries, namely, Austria, 
Switzerland, France, and, viA the I^ike of 
Constance, South Germany. Starting from 
Innsbruck, and passing Landeck, St. Anton, 
and Bludenz, it reaches Feldkirch, where it 
divides into two branches — one to Zurich and 
one to Bregenz. It was opened to the public 
on September 20th, 1884, the Emperor 
Francis Joseph of Austria performing the 
opening ceremony in person. Although it 
would be interesting to give a full descrip- 
tion of this skilfully carried out work of 
engineering, of the tunnel over 30,000ft. 
long, of its many high and wide bridges 
and viaducts, it is not the purpose of 
the present paper to give a dissertation 
on railway building, and we will there- 
fore only touch on such points as will 
assist our readers to grasp the serious 
difficulties and dangers which have had to be 
overcome outside the ordinary obstacles 
encountered in such undertakings as the con- 
struction of mountain railways. It will be 
necessary to show the great elevations 
attained by the track, and to point out that at 
such heights the snow-fall is absolutely 
phenomenal ; and although snow-ploughs are 
constantly employed to keep the track 
itself clear for traffic, we shall show as we 
proceed with our paper how obstinate and 
terrible a foe snow is to encounter in moun- 
tain regions. At Innsbruck the elevation of 
the line above the level of the sea is about 
1,750ft. ; at landeck, 2,350ft. ; at St. Anton, 
nearly 4,000ft. ; the highest point being 
reached inside the Arlberg, which is pierced 
by a long tunnel. 

Everybody knows what tivalanches are — 
falling masses of snow and ice which, begin- 
ning in insignificant quantities, increase in 
volume as they move, gathering strength with 
every foot of ground they pass in their down- 
ward path, till they become like wild torrents, 
tearing up and carrying with them in their 
destructive career trees, rocks, boulders, 
even huts and houses —in fact, all that lies in 
their way. Arrived at last in the valley they 
pread themselves out over large areas in 
nasses of snow and debris 15ft. to 50ft. in 

height, containing the ruins of houses, 
stables, huts, and barns, and not rarely the 
carcasses of many animals and the corpses of 
men, women, and children who have been 
overwhelmed by them as they swept down 
the mountain-sides. 

It was against these awful and appalling 
enemies that the railway company had to 
fight. So frequent were avalanches on 
this line that, although snow-sheds of a 
very substantial nature were erected all 
along the line where it appeared necessary, 
winter often saw the trains unable to proceed, 
and large parts of the permanent way either 
destroyed or entirely covered with snow and 
debris, and made impassable for many days. 
Various engineers were instructed to make 
observations on the spot, and they spent 
whole winters and springs in the mountain 
regions for the purpose, braving great dangers 
and undergoing severe privations. It was 
their object to study the matter fully, 
to learn where the avalanches originated, 
and to find, if possible, means of pre- 
venting their disastrous descent. After 
various winters so spent these outposts and 
pickets of the army of science became so 
familiar with the nature and peculiarities 
of avalanches that they could foretell almost 
to the hour when one was likely to descend. 
From the state of the snow on the mountain- 
sides and the existing temperature they could 
at last calculate exactly the time when the 
enemy might be expected. Had the railway 
servants always listened to the warnings of 
the engineers much less life would have been 
lost during the four or five years before the 
campaign against the terrible foe terminated. 
We heard of one case where, from the 
nearest station, an engine and truck were 
especially sent to one of the signal-houses 
occupied by a signalman, his wife, and three 
little children, to communicate the approach- 
ing danger. He was ordered to place all his 
belongings on the truck and return with 
his family to the station, as an avalanche was 
almost certain to descend upon his abode 
within a few hours. He laughed at the 
warning, and refused to leave his cosy 
home. He did not believe in these 
prognostications of the scientists. The 
engine returned for peremptory orders, but 
when arriving again at the site of the signal- 
house the latter was found to have been 
carried'away withal! its inhabitants. The five 




THkc^c.ii Tilt woods, 

bodies were discovered some days afterwards. 
There have been unfortunately some other 
fatal disasters among the railway servants 
owing to avalanches, but it speaks well 
for the care and precaution which were 
always taken by the administration that, 
during the sixteen years of the railway's 
existence, only one passenger was injured by 
them. This happened in 1885. 

Under the leadership of the head of the 
Art berg section of 
the Austrian State 
Railways, the Im- 
perial Cm 1 ri Coun- 
cillor, Wilhelm 
Von Drathsch- 
niidt - Bruckheim, 
and with the assist- 
ance of engineers 
and experts of 
high renown whom 
the Director had 
called around him, 
war was declared 
against the ele- 
ments, which 
always seem 
hostile to the 
works of mankind. 
It was in 1890 
that it was decided 
to spend the 
necessary sum of 
money in order to 

dissipate once and 
for ever this for- 
midable danger, 
should it be pos- 
sible to do so 
through human 
agency. In order 
that we may be 
able to show our 
readers the battle- 
field where defeats 
and victories fol- 
lowed each other 
for some time we 
give a series of 
photographs, the 
originals of which 
are the sole pro- 
perty of the Aus- 
trian State Rail- 
ways, and have 
been kindly placed 
at the disposal of 
the writer of this 
The section of the railway depicted in 
illustration No. 1 is that near the station of 
Hintergasse, This district was particularly 
exposed to the danger of avalanches, and the 
tracks of such may be plainly seen about the 
centre of the photograph, a perfect clearing 
having been effected. Illustration No. 2 
shows an avalanche which came down at the 
station of Klirsch, just passing the signal- 
house, which, however, had been abandoned, 


ear T^rigiiTVm WOTW^"- 





the fall of the avalanche having been fully 
anticipated This happened in 1896, and 
it was one of the last which damaged the 
permanent way. This whole district is now 
absolutely free from danger, science, after 
long battling, having won a complete victory. 
No. 3 again shows an avalanche, the snow 
and rubbish being just cleared off the track. 
The scene is near Pirker Mahdle ; time, 
March, 1896, Illustration No. 4 shows an 
avalanche which also occurred in 1896. It 
fortunately passed under the iron bridge, hut 
destroyed the 
track for some 
hundreds of feet 
at the side of the 
ironwork. The 
next illustration 
(No. 5) was taken 
a few minutes 
after the Glong- 
Tobel avalanche 
had descended 
into the valley 
with terrible 
effect. The iron 
bridge, over 50ft* 
long, was carried 
along nearly half a 
mile and was de- 
posited amongst 
the snow and 
rocks on the 
farther side of the 
valley. No, 6 
depicts the effects 

of an avalanche near Flirsch Station. The 
permanent way was entirely destroyed for 
some distance, and we see in the photograph 
the operation of constructing a temporary 
track. At the time this photograph was 
taken the snow had melted to a considerable 
extent, leaving behind it the rocks and 
boulders which the avalanche had carried 
down. In our next reproductions we have 
photographs of the village of St u ben, 
which was visited and partially covered by 
an avalanche. The photographs were taken 


Original from 



the day after it had descended, No human 
life was lost on this occasion, hut many cattle 
were buried alive and some uninhabited huts 
destroyed. These pictures will give our 
readers a very true idea of the quantity 
of snow which an avalanche deposits when 
it finds rest. Illustrations Nos. 7 and 8 show 
single houses of Stuben, some of them com- 

pletely covered. 
The people inside 
had to build 
tunnels through 
the snow in order 
to leave their 
houses, which 
were in very great 
danger of being 
crushed in by its 
weight. In illus- 
tration No, 9 we 
see an avalanche 
which entirely 
closed up the en- 
trance to the long 
tunnel and caused 
an interruption to 
traffic lasting some 
days. Our next 
photograph (No. 
1 o) sh a ws an 
avalanche in motion — actually the picture 
of an avalanche descending ! This was 
taken by a railway engineer from a good 
point of vantage, who "snap-shotted" it 
as it passed 011 its way. We are in- 
formed, and can well believe, that this 
photograph is unique, and the only one 
existing of an avalanche in actual motion. 

AS a\ ALANC 11 J , 

5 i:i NG C«»N"STKL ! CTEn, 

1 iTa 1 t ro m 






The views which we are able to present to 
our readers will sufficiently show how hostile, 
sit bde, and powerful a foe had to be grappled 
with by the engineers, It would almost 
seem as if the elements hate the handiwork 
of man ; but science is a power which seizes 
directly upon the weaknesses of its opponents, 
and with unerring calculation turns physical 
forces against each other, by this means 
achieving ends which it were otherwise im- 
possible to attain, and we shall now see with 
what patience and perseverance her disciples 
carried on the 
campaign until 
they remained vic- 
torious in the field. 
There was a time 
when it was seri- 
ously thought that 
the Arlberg Rail- 
way would have 
to stop all traffic 
during the winter 
months. But the 
avalanches, beside 
endangering pass- 
ing trains and 
doing great dam- 
age to the per- 
manent way, were 
also most destruc- 
tive to forests and 
woods, and the 
State Department 
which has charge 

of these willingly 
united with the 
railway authorities 
in the endeavour 
to find ways and 
means to prevent 
them from des- 
cending. Elabor- 
ate woodwork was 
constructed dur- 
ing the summer 
months which 
should stop the 
masses of snow 
on their way, and 
with grave anxiety 
!.he engineers 
waited the result 
of their protective 
measures. In 
the f ol lowi ng 
February an ava- 
lanche descended 
on the spot where 
the wood barriers were erected, and, alas, 
the snow masses passed unhindered on 
their career, even increasing their volume 
by adding to it the debris of the beams, 
rafters, and planks. It was soon found that 
it would be almost impossible to construct 
barriers strong enough to withstand the 
onslaught of such a charge as that of a de- 
scending avalanche. Observations led to the 
conclusion that the only way to overcome 
this tremendous power would he to prevent 
the accumulation of snow and formation of 

by Lit 





avalanches. It has ever been the endeavour 
of the strategist to divide, as much as 
possible, the forces of the opposing foe, and 
such was the policy now followed in this 
campaign. As we show in our illustration, 
No. ii, both stone and wooden walls were 
erected, starting quite at the tops of the 
mountains, Besides these obstacles, heavy 
posts were driven into the earth in clusters 
and rows, at vari- 
ous distances 
down the moun- 
tain - side. This 
scheme had the 
desired effect* 
Whenever masses 
of snow began to 
accumulate the 
obstructions were 
strong enough to 
divide them and 
break their power 
Our next illustra- 
t i on (No. 12) 
shows two of the 
many walls which 
were erected, and 
there are also 
clearly visible the 
tracks of ava- 
lanches where in 
former years they 
used regularly to 
descend. Such 

tracks are now 
planted with 
young trees, and 
when t^^se are 
grown up they will 
be no small assist- 
ance towards the 
permanent pre- 
vention of ava- 
lanches. These 
works of obstruc- 
tion, for such they 
really were, formed 
at first a cause of 
great anxiety, for 
many were the 
misgivings as to 
their efficiency, so 
often had previous 
methods failed to 
be of use. Only 
those who had 
taken observations 
for several years 
on the spot, and 
had mastered the whole question to their 
satisfaction, felt secure and entertained no 
doubt as to the issue. 

The winter of 1897 was a particularly 
severe one, and there were great snow-falls. 
Avalanches were reported from various parts ; 
but on the so-called Benedict -Tobel, which 
was, so to say, the very head-quarters of the 
enemy, and the mountain first experimented 





frequency as the mountain-sides are 
denuded of trees will all soon be- 
come occurrences of the past, 

The whole character of the Arlberg 
Railway, its geographical position 
and the climate* and also the peculiar 
nature of the mountains through 
which it passed, caused it to be 
specially liable to landslips and ava- 
lanches. As a matter of fact some 
of the valleys through which the rail- 
way wends its way have always been 
known to be frequently visited by 
them. The village of Stuben, which 
we already mentioned* and which is 
situated above the station of Langen, 
has been on various occasions almust 
entirely destroyed by falling snow 
masses, and terrible loss of life has 
from time to time taken place, until 
in 1849 the Government came to 
the rescue and caused buildings to be 
erected above the village in the shape 
of earthworks resembling redoubts, 
which were intended to at least par- 
tially break the force of the des- 
cending snow. Our illustrations 


on, there was not a sign of any snow 
movement, In the illustration No. 
13 we have a view after a heavy snow- 
fall The summer of the same year 
saw these experimental constructions 
carried out on all those mountains 
adjacent to the railway trank, and the 
method was proved perfect in 1898. 
Our final illustration (No, 14) gives a 
more detailed view of the obstruc- 
tions as they appear after a heavy 
snow-falL A railway engineer is 
depicted on his tour of inspection* 
The year 1899 passed without a day's 
interruption of the traffic. There 
were no avalanches reported, and the 
victory was proved to be complete, 
the foe entirely routed. 

The dissipation of avalanches 
enables the Department of Woods 
and Forests to replant districts which 
heretofore were so frequently scoured 
by the enemy that any attempt to 
replant them had failed, Great 
results are expected from this wurk, 
for landslips which increase in 

ed by Google 

\?.— A NKAKfcR VlKjHfj1pJ[|T|^ftJi^pj TUB WAI.I.S, 


1 84 



show of how little avail, however, were these 
obstruct tons. The work erected by the 
railway will doubtless prevent a repetition of 
the disastrous occurrences formerly so fre- 
quently reported* Stuben affords a special 
proof of the love of the Tyrolese for the 
spot on which they were born, for in spite of 
the annual danger and or the many visita- 
tions, in spite even of the repeated destruc- 
tion of their home 
steads, they could 
not be prevailed 
upon to move from 
their beloved 

During our in- 
quiries in the val- 
leys through which 
the Arlbcrg Rail- 
way passes, namely , 
the Upper Valley 
of the Inn, the 
Stanz Valley and 
the Ktoster Valley, 
we heard some sad 
and terrible stories 
of the disasters 
caused by ava- 
lanches, wh ich 
made us the more 
rejoice that this 
danger is at least 
partly averted for 
the future. To 

mention only a few 
instances it is on 
record that on one 
occasion a whole 
wed di tig process- 
ion, bride, groom, 
and sixteen other 
persons, were 
killed ; at another 
time some children 
were carried to the 
church to be chris- 
tened when a ter- 
rible avalanche 
came suddenly 
down the moun- 
tain, and ere the 
fathers, with the 
godfathers, friends, 
and children, could 
find a refuge they 
were overtaken by 
the terrific torrent 
of snow. The 
bodies were found 
long afterwards more than two miles dis- 
tant, There are also on record some 
marvellous escapes, and one particular 
instance which came to our notice was that 
of a man and woman who were buried 
under the snow of an avalanche and who 
digged themselves out of it and rejoined 
their friends the day after They found 
them bewailing the death of the arrivals. 


W THE W^lltXHFlratR U"n"I W~\UL\KCIfK. 


Election Bets in America. 

By E, Leslie Gilliams. 

EVER before in the history of 
Presidential elections has that 
peculiarly American institu- 
tion the freak bet, attained 
such a widespread vogue as 
last year 

Now that the campaign is over, the 
election decided, and the victor determined, 
staid and respectable citizens all over the 
United States, who were betrayed by their 
enthusiasm for Bryan into the making of 
fantastic wagers, have been paying the 
penalty by the performance of grotesque and 
impossible feats, feats which under ordinary 
conditions would probably render necessary 
the services of insanity experts* 

The variety of these bets and the ingenuity 

pensed music and called attention to the 
extraordinary spectacle. 

It is hard to determine to what this strange 
ebullition should be attributed, or why it 
reached such a climax last year. 

In previous elections the excitement of the 
campaign has always given rise to many of 
these bets, but never to the number of last 
year. In the big cities, on November 7th, 
thousands of people lined the streets to 
watch the many strange sights, and the 
" Losers' Carnival " bids fair to become an 
important and inseparable phase of future 
American battles of the ballot. 

Probably the most striking feature about 
these " freak " bets is the character of the 
people who make them. If the custom were 

Frctrri d] 



which has been expended in devising them 
are almost incredible. No eccentricity, no 
absurdity, has been too extreme. Losers 
have carted winners for miles in wheel- 
barrows, whiskers have been cut in all 
conceivable styles, heads shaved ; stylish 
young men, dressed in their finest apparel, 
have worked as waiters and domestic servants, 
and have even dug ditches ; while several 
losers have had to submit to mock funerals 
and actual burial alive, Business men have 
impersonated tramps, acted as clowns, and 
strolled along crowded thoroughfares carry- 
ing negro babies, while a brass band dis- 

zed by Google 

Vol jc*i.— 24. 

confined to the lower and more ignorant 
classes it would not be so remarkable, but 
the fact that responsible business men, pro- 
fessional men, and leading citizens of wealth 
and standing are among those who so cheer- 
fully sacrifice their dignity, and in full view of 
great street crowds perform the antics of 
clowns and idiots, greatly enhances the 

Reports of these bets, of all degrees of 
inanity, daring, and difficulty, have been 
coming in from all parts of the United 
States ; at a moderate estimate, based on 
figures compiled from leading papers^ it is 
Original from 


1 86 


safe to say that there were fully a half-million 
such bets — about one to every thirty voters. 

Judging from these reports it would seem 
that the favourite bet was the wheelbarrow, 
baby-coach, or push-cart wager. According 
to the terms of this, the loser is 'compelled to 
push the winner in some hand vehicle 
through the main streets at the busiest hour. 
This bet was especially popular throughout 
New York State, and reached its climax in 
Rochester, where during the entire day the 
principal street was constantly crowded with 
wheelbarrows, boys' express - cai ts, baby- 
carriages, etc. 

In Philadelphia Elmer Gregg hauled one 
of his Republican friends, T, Sours, a man 
weighing over 20olb., 
a distance of half a 
mile up a steep hill, 
while a large crowd 
looked on and 

Alfred Willis, a 
Democrat, of Read- 
ing, Pennsylvania, 
hauled Charles 
Whitman, a Re- 
publican, from the 
foot of Perm Square 
to the City Park and 
back again, as the 
result of a wager. 
The trip was made in 
a toy express waggon. 
Whitman, who weighs 
2oolb., sat content- 
edly in the little 
vehicle, waving a 
McKinley banner 
and shouting to the 
crowd to follow him. 
The distance to the 
more than a mile. 

Most of these wheelbarrow processions 
were headed by brass bands and carried flags 
and banners with election inscriptions. It is 
a singular fact that the winners, as a rule, 
seemed oblivious to the fact that they were 
quite as much a part of the spectacle as the 
losers and were making themselves equally 

The victorious Republicans seemed indeed 
to immensely enjoy the excitement and de- 
risive cheers of onlookers. 

Even women had a share in the wheel - 
harrow bets and figured in several of the more 
startling. For instance, Miss Anna Met/, of 
Columbus, Ohio, was wheeled in a barrow 
from Ninth Street to High Street, on Living- 

Digiiized by V^iOOQ IC 

From a Photo. 

park and back was 

stone Avenue, one mile, by William Woelkert, 
as the result of an election wager. Miss 
Metz is an ardent admirer of McKinley, and 
predicted his election to her friend Woelkert, 
who is a Democrat, A wager was made by 
which, if McKinley were elected, he was to 
wheel her over this course, and if he should 
be defeated she should wheel him over half 
of the course. By blowing a horn Miss 
Met?: attracted the attention of people to 
the spectacle, 

A Chicago girl, Miss Ethel El art on, 
cashier, and prominent in social circles, 
also enjoyed a similar ride in a wheel- 
barrow, propelled by William Breme, an 
ardent Bryan supporter. 

Four times the 
clumsy vehicle with 
its laughing rider and 
puffing victim swung 
round the block, 
bounded by Forty 
second Street, Evans 
Avenue, Forty - third 
Street, and Langley 
Avenue, and on each 
trip the crowd, poking 
fun and cheering for 
McKinley, became 
larger So great did 
the jam finally be- 
come that traffic was 
actually blocked for 
several minutes while 
the police endea- 
voured to restore 

A bet of this same 
character, and in- 
tended to be ludi- 
crous, has had a 
rather pathetic termination. It was made in 
Wilkesbarre, Pennsylvania, two months before 
the election, between Austin Gibbons, a 
Democrat, and John Rawlings, a Republican, 
the agreement being that the loser should give 
the winner a four-mile wheelbarrow ride. 
About a month before the election Gibbons 
had both hands blown off in an explosion. Of 
course, Rawlings wanted to call the bet off, 
but the loser insisted on paying, and as soon 
as hooks were made with which he could 
hold the barrow handles, when strapped to 
his shoulders, the ride was undertaken. 

The (1 hand-organ '* bet ran the " wheel- 
barrow " bet a close second in the race for 
popularity ; the ranks of the humble organ- 
grinders received some notable accessions 
from the most exclusive circles of society, 




The intersections of streets in the busiest 
sections were the favourite places for the pay- 
ment of bets of this kind, the unfortunate 
victims industriously grinding the organ while 
their opponents collected and pocketed the 
coins donated by the crowds. 

For four long hours two leading Phila- 
delphia politicians, J + Morgan Sweeney and 
Samuel Mullen, made themselves conspicuous 
in this way. At seven o'clock in the evening 
they took their places in front of McBride's 
Pleasure Palace, a 
popular dancing-hall. 
Sweeney played the 
organ and Mullen col- 
lected the money. A 
placard was posted on 
the organ, reading : — 

" I am Sweeney the 
Fool, Living at ion, 
Morris Street, Who 
Had No Better Sense 
Than to Bet on Bryan 
and Then Go Vote 
for Him." 

On the afternoon 
after election Charles 
Clouser, of Reading, 
a registry assessor in 
the Fourteenth Ward, 
played an organ 
several hours on the 
principal thorough- 
fares of the ward as 
the result of losing a 
bet with a Republican 
on McKinley. He 
wore a flag on his hat, 
and on his hack was 
a card : w I lost my 
bet." Mr. Clouser 
borrowed the organ 
from an Italian, pay- 
ing him five dollars. 

A number of people dropped money in a tin 
cup held by the loser. His collections paid 
for the organ. 

One of the most arduous of hand -organ 
bets was that paid by Joseph Fisher to 
Joseph Goodrick, both residents of Phila- 
delphia, For eight hours Fisher, with an 
old-fashioned hand -organ strapped on his 
shoulders, was compelled to tour all the 
principal thoroughfares and make an entrance 
and play in banks, office buildings, and large 
business houses. 

Naturally he was not received with much 
favour, for all these buildings have strict 
rules against the entrance of mendicants. In 

Digitized by G< 


several instances he was roughly jostled out by 
janitors and watchmen, and in two cases only 
escaped actual violence through the inter- 
vention of friends. 

The most popular betting novelty of the 
year was the "peanut and toothpick." This 
brand-new idea seemed to catch the fancy of 
those in search of freak bets, and every large 
city in the country reports the performance 
of this back* breaking feat. A hill is chosen, a 
peanut and a toothpick are the properties, and 

the loser is compelled 
to roll the little nut 
up the hill with the 
two -inch toothpick, 
not being allowed 
under any conditions 
to touch the peanut 
with his fingers. 

Having been mis- 
taken in his con- 
fidence in Bryan's 
election, one of Phila- 
delphia's legislators, 
Cou ncil man George 
Rumniey, rolled a 
peanut up the steep 
Green Lane Hill. He 
started off laughing 
with a crowd follow- 
ing, and things went 
very well for half a 
square. But when 
the unfortunate 
losers back began to 
ache, and the peanut 
was still several 
squares from the lop 
of the hill, he began 
to lament. He 
reached the top 
during the afternoon, 
a sad and exhausted 
The same performance was gone through 
by Charles Mackenthun t a prominent Balti- 
more business man. Also in Pittsburg, where 
Walter Rinehart and a crowd of shout- 
ing friends followed Edward Kirk, who 
laboriously rolled a peanut with a toothpick 
the entire length of Meyran Avenue. People 
hurled taunts at him from all sides, but Kirk 
kept steadily at work until he had passed out 
of the avenue, having gone a distance of 

After these three principal bets came a 
multitude of smaller ones, which had a 
considerable following. Blacking the boots 
of the winning Republican was a great 



1 88 


have been eminently suitable for a mas- 
querade party or a Christmas pantomime, 
but which looked wildly grotesque amid the 
sober surroundings of a typical business 



favourite, and the street-arab proprietors of 
blacking kits reaped a rich harvest from the 
bettors who hired their outfits, 

A. H. Thomas, of Rochester, New York, 
was among the most unfortunate losers, 
and spent the two most miserable days of 
his life on November 7th and 8th. Mr, 
Thomas bet with James Burke, loser to go 
to business for two days in a clown's suit. 
He lost, and, in consequence, was compelled 
to sit at his desk and manage the affairs of 
his publishing house in a rig which would 


P*rom a Photo. 

vek a ci TV. 



by Google 

office. Mr Thomas was unmercifully jeered 
at by all of his customers and his employes, 
and swore never to offend again by the 

placing of a fantastic 
election bet. 

Compelled to paint 
the hated name of 
McKinley all over 
the walls of Jackson- 
ville buildings was the 
reward which Mr* A* 
R. Howard of that 
city received for his 
faith in the Demo- 
cratic stan dard- 
bearer s ability to win. 
Wearing a high silk 
hat and armed with 
brush and pot full of 
black paint, Mr. 
Howard sallied forth, 
and from early morn- 
ing till nightfall spent 
hi? day tracing the 

Original from 



t't'nm a] 

name of the successful candidate everywhere ; 
yelled at, cheered, pelted, abused, and 
threatened with arrest, Mr Howard was com- 
pletely exhausted 
when his day's 
work was done, 
and could barely 
drag himself 

Another man 
who was placed in 
a very unpleasant 
position by the 
failure of Bryan 
to win was John 
W. Hamilton, of 
SL Paul, Minne- 
sota. This Demo- 
crat has a coach- 
man who is an 
enthusiastic Re- 
publican, As a 
result of an argu- 
ment a wager was 
made, the agree- 
ment being that if 

Bryan won the coachman should pull Mr. 
Hamilton and a party of friends through the 
city in a carriage; while 
if McKinley won, the 
coachman was to take 
the place of honour 
and occupy the seat, 
while his employer 
stood between the 
shafts and pulled the 
carriage. As Bryan 
lost, Mr. Hamilton 
had to discharge his 
unique wager, which 
he did to the great 
delight of the coach- 
man, who thoroughly 
enjoyed his brief term 
of mastery* 

Even art entered 
into the wagers, and 
Frank R, Harris, of 
Cincinnati, Ohio, 
artist, is now working 
busily on a portrait of 
President McKinley. 
It is not to be sold, 
and Mr. Harris will 
never realize a penny 
for his pains ; instead, 
he will have only the 
poor satisfaction of 
knowing that he has 

discharged a bad wager. Mr, Harris bet his 
friend, Albert Williams, that Bryan would 
win, and agreed if he was mistaken to 



paint a portrait of the successful Republican 
candidate, carry it to Washington, and pre- 
sent it to President 
McKinley himself. 

Still harder to pay 
was the bet lost by Mr. 
E. M. Pought, of 
Arnold, Pennsylvania. 
For putting too much 
faith in Kryan Mr. 
Pought was compelled 
to exhibit himself as a 
museum freak for a 
whole week ; while a 
Republican orator 
called attention to his 
peculiarities, he had to 
stand the withering 
stare of hundreds of 
pairs of eyes, includ- 
ing friends, family, 
and neighbours, 

Frank J-Iansel, a 
society man of Pitts- 
burg, dressed in a cut* 
away coat, knicker- 
bockers, golf stock- 
ings, a very high collar, 
silk hat, and patent 
leather shoes, worked 
a whole day digging a 


rREoENTtu rv ™^;j IIE ™™» The hole was dug for 

/"* ~ ~ J Original from 







1 /■■/«'. r.- 

the Pittsburg and Allegheny Telephone Com- 
pany, and many members of the swagger set 
were present to see that the work was done 
well. Hansel did not mind the audience, 
but kept steadily on until the hole was the 
regulation depth. 

The most gruesome and startling of all 
the bets occurred in Philadelphia, and Mr. 
George R. Williams was the chief figure, 
Mr, Williams is a loyal Democrat and did 
yeoman's work for Bryan. Among those 
whom he sought to convert was Henry 
Rudolph , a stalwart Republican, whose home 
is at the Falls of Schuylkill. Hisarguments, 
however, availed not, for Rudolph was loyal 
to his party, and could see no possibility of 
its candidate 's defeat. As the election drew 
near the two men became more and more 
interested in the outcome, and finally, more 
fully to emphasize their faith in the success 
of their respective favourites, entered upon a 
novel wager. Williams predicted the election 
of Bryan, while Rudolph het on MeKinley, 
and it was solemnly agreed that the loser 
should permit the winner to bury him alive, 
the loser to pay all costs of the funeral 
Bryan was defeated and Williams paid his 
wager in full 

by LiOOglC 

Early in the evening Williams 
called at the rooms of the Wissa- 
hickon Republican Club, where he 
found all ill readiness for his funeral 
Crape streamed from the door, while 
in the parlour Rudolph and a score 
or more of his Republican friends 
were grouped about a plain deal 
casket Into this Williams was 
placed, the lid put on, and carefully 
screwed down, after which the pall- 
bearers lifted the casket to their 
shoulders and bore it to a dense 
grove on " Buckeye " Hill, a short 
distance away. There the coffin, 
with its nearly smothered occupant, 
was carefully lowered into a grave, 
which had already been dug, and the 
Republicans returned to the club- 
house, leaving Williams to his fate, 

It was then that the Democrat 

proved what a lively corpse he was. 

Exerting his strength to the utmost, 

he succeeded, after several trials, in 

forcing ofT the lid of the casket, and 

soon scrambled from the grave, after 

which he hurriedly made his way 

back to the club-house, where the 

entire pnrty then sat down to an 

enjoyable lunch, the expenses of 

which were all paid by Williams. 

In Boston two Englishmen, John J* Murray 

and John Berry, restaurant-keepers, lost on 

Bryan, and each was compelled to blow a 

feather a distance of half a mile. 

Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, furnished many 
amusing freak bets, which kept the city in 
conversation matter for several days after the 

Ex-Councilman Michael Han nan, Alle- 
gheny, carried a loaf of bread 14ft. long, 
baked by Gustavo Hammier, and a band led 
the procession, 

IX J. Dimes, Diamond Street restaurant- 
keeper, won fifty dollars from John Labror, 
who had to carry Dimes from Sixth Street 
Bridge to Smithfield Street, and to an hotel in 
the Diamond, Dimes was in evening dress. 
John Wi lien part played horse and hauled 
Charles Dittler about in a buggy up and 
down the hills and streets for an hour, 

One fellow was seen standing in the gutter 
with toothpicks, Another washed the feet 
of a Republican on City Hall steps, and 
a dozen or more wheelbarrows were 
trundled about, decorated, carrying jubilant 

So confident was pretty Rhoda Williams, a 
Trenton society girl, that Bryan would be 




elected that she offered to dance on the State 
House steps if he were defeated. Rhoda 
shed bitter tears, but about dusk, accom- 
panied by some companions, she went to the 
State House and danced, to the great amuse- 
ment of onlookers. 

Miss Eva Howard and Miss Agnes Hobart 
paid an election bet by sawing a railroad tie 
into 2ft lengths with a cross saw, in the front 
yard of Miss Howard's residence. They had 
their hands badly blistered. 

Michael Burns, an employ^ of the Hilton 
Bridge Construction Company, Albany t New 
York, bet on Bryan with Henry Baker, a 
fellow employe, the penalty being that the 
loser should stand before the winner as the 
target for twenty-four dozen eggs. Eight 
dozen eggs of all ages had already been laid 
by by Baker, and the throwing took place 
early in December. 

Most of the bets, though ridiculous, were 

single misstep would have plunged him to 
certain death. He succeeded in making 
the dangerous journey in safety, but after- 
wards admitted that he would not repeat the 
exploit for a thousand dollars. 

Among some other unfortunates who 
suffered in consequence of the necessity of 
paying off freak bets may be briefly men- 
tioned a Philadelphia broker, who had to 
impersonate a tramp and sleep all night 
in a public square ; Tim Johnson, a 
Chicago politician, who had to pay for all 
the liquor which Lew Dockstader, the well- 
known minstrel, could drink in two weeks; G. 
N. Weingart, a Denver Democrat, who had to 
ride through the streets of the city mounted 
on a burro and having his face covered with 
gold paint ; a Democratic drug clerk in 
Baltimore, who had to drink a quart of 
cod- liver oil ; Michael T. Fitzgerald, a Boston 
barber, who must shave several of his 

From a] 


\ Photo. 

harmless, but in several cases serious danger 
was incurred by the losers, and in one 
instance death will probably result. 

In spite of the cold, Isaac Brown, of Big 
Bend, Mercer County, Pa., attempted to 
swim across the Shenango River. He was 
almost drowned, and when rescued from bis 
ice-bath developed pneumonia and is now 
hovering between life and death. 

At Bridgeton, New Jersey, Tucker Vanleer 
hopped on one foot across a trestle bridge, 
3ofL high, over the Cohansey River A 

Digitized by L* i 

customers free of charge for a whole year ; 
Archie Evans, of Westbro, who put on women's 
clothing and pushed through the streets a 
baby-coach containing two negro children ; 
John P. Murphy, of Cambridge, Massa- 
chusetts, w T ho walked through the Boston 
Chamber of Commerce barefooted ; and 
Harry T, Cole, a 315IL fat man, of Logans- 
town, Pa., who was forced to walk sixteen 
miles in four hours or forfeit twenty-five 
dollars, the feat being accomplished just four 

minutes ahead of time. 

kJnyinal TrOm 



By John Arthur Barry, 




OW, does any man want a 
good billet — a real, rosy 
chance ? " asked Captain 
t rower of the twelve seamen 
who constituted the crew of 
the schooner Akrt f just then 

lying at anchor in a beautiful bay on the east 

side of Aoba, in the New Hebrides, 

"There you are/' continued the skipper, 

waving his arm comprehensively towards the 

shore, "a fine house to live in; wives by 

the dozen to pick an* choose from; nothin' 

much to do, an* a climate as can't be 

beat in the South Seas. Fifteen quid a 

month is the wages, 

nnd a percentage 

on every ton of 

stuff that's got in. 

An* what can the 

heart o' man desire 

more ? " 

( ' Christian 

burial, captain/* 

replied a voice ; "a 

thing which ain't 

to be found inside 

of a nigger." 

14 It was his own 

dashed fault en- 

tirely," retorted the 

captain. " If he'd 

kept oflf the groj; 

he'd been alive and 

kickiiV at this pre- 
sent minute. Any 

man as likes to live 

square and keep a 

sharp eye on the 

niggers can do as 

well— better a lot 

than Fm able to r 

even as master o' 

this craft." 
" Then why don't 

you take the job, 

captain ? " asked 

the same voice. 
" Less jaw, Bill 

by Google 

Jones," replied the latter, hotly, "You've 
got far too much o' what the cat licks 
her face with. Now, lads, I'll give twenty 
pounds ! That's the last penny. Old Jack 
the Whaler was only gettin* the fifteen. But 
it's an important station, and I know the 
firm want to keep it going, so FI1 spring the 
other fiver an' chance the row. 

"That's right, Mister Scott," he continued, 
presently, and with emphasis on the handle, 
as after a pause I came out from the group 
of men gathered at the break of the little 
poop, and signified that I would take his 
offer, " You're just the man I was hopin' 
for. You've had a boat o' your own, an' 
ain't got no business here afore the mast in 
mine. Only a few months, an' with luck yell 

be able to start again." 
11 A lot o' luck I* 
croaked the irrepres- 
sible Jones, whilst the 
remainder of my ship- 
mates looked at me 
much as they might 
at one about to 
commit suicide. 
But I cared 
little, I was fairly 
young, confident 
in an extensive 
knowledge of 
other islands, 
and thought it 
curious if I 
couldn't manage 
to rub along on 
Aoba, despite its 
bad name and 
the old sailor's 
blood not more 
than just dry on 
the veranda over 
yonder. Only a 
short time be- 
fore this I had 
owned as fine a 
schooner as the 
A/erty with 
which I had 
been trading be- 
tween Fiji and 


Original from 




the Solomons— some day I'll tell you how I 
lost her — and I felt it hard lines to have to 
begin again in the fo'c's'le. So, as you see, at 
the five-pound rise I accepted the post so 
lately vacated by Jack the Whaler, clubbed 
and eaten a few days previously. This had 
been the first news brought on board by 
old chief Teroa as we dropped anchor in 
the bay. And of course the store was 
looted — every article cleared out by those 
bad, wicked men from the interior. Luckily 
he, Teroa, had managed to save the building, 
for which he hinted we owed him something 
more than gratitude. 

" As thick in it as the others," commented 
Gower to me, after, ironically complimenting 
Teroa on his intervention. " Found poor 
old Jack tight I suppose, and the trade lying 
all about nohow, the niggers did, and weren't 
able to resist the temptation. Curse it, you 
couldn't expect anythin' else at the price ! 
However, we've got lots of stuff, Scott, 
an* '11 soon set you up again. . But you'll 
have to keep an eye liftin\ If they'll eat a 
tough, dry morsel like old. Jack, they won't 
think twice about goin' for a young an' fat 
'un like you. Hang me if I don't think 
Teroa's mouth's waterin' now ! " 

This was decidedly unkind of the captain 
after getting him out of his difficulty as I 
had done. And to punish him I affected to 
bejrightened and to reconsider my decision. 
Nor would I finally make up my mind until 
he offered me as a parting gift a fine Tranter's 
revolver, with holster and belt, the possession 
of which I hinted might settle my doubts. 
After this he forbore chaff, and we loaded 
a boat with trade and pulled ashore, taking 
the precaution to have another one as a 
coverer full of armed men. 

But nothing could have been more cordial 
than our reception at the beach by crowds of 
natives, who willingly assisted the crew to 
carry the cases and bales of stuff up to the 
store. Nor was anybody guilty of having 
the bad taste to refer ever so distantly to its 
late owner, now in all probability part and 
parcel of themselves. The building was of 
very thick slabs well fitted together, and 
provided with massive doors and shuttered 
windows, the whole surrounded by an old 
palisade of sharp-pointed saplings. A coat 
of whitewash made from coral lime gave 
the house the look of a birthday cake, 
;and, so far, I was well satisfied with it. 
The situation, too, could not be better 
— on a sloping knoll commanding a fine 
view of the beach and the palm-fringed bay, 
whilst farther out still, like a dome of indigo, 

Vol. xxi. -25. 

Digitized by UOOgle 

loomed lofty Aurora Island. Close by to 
the left, but invisible by reason of dense 
plantations of cocoa and sago palms and 
bananas, lay the native village. At the back 
gentle hills ran gradually up to the great 
mountain 3,ooQft. high, and everywhere about 
the former one could see patches of taro, 
yams, etc., surrounded by woven pig-proof 
hedges and stone walls. Never, I thought, 
as I stood on the veranda and looked 
around, had I in my Pacific travels seen any- 
thing more beautiful. A creeper had over- 
run the palisade and poured perfume on the 
fresh morning air from millions of small, 
pink, trumpet-shaped blossoms ; crotons, with 
leaves curiously striped in red, and black, 
and yellow, nodded to the sea-breeze ; and just 
behind the house flamed a clump of scarlet 
hibiscus mingled with prickly pandanus. 

Gazing at the peaceful scene and letting 
my eyes wander away to the deep blue of 
the water that kissed the snowy beach, both 
contrasting so sharply with the sombre back- 
ground of natural forest, relieved here and 
there by the lighter green of cultivation, it 
was difficult indeed to believe that one stood 
in cannibal-land surrounded by fierce savages 
thirsting for blood, and only kept at bay by 
the hope of presently finding another victim 
unprepared. Hard indeed to realize all this, 
until my glance presently fell on the great 
broad patch of brown that marked where the 
people of this island paradise had so lately 
clubbed my predecessor. 

" The brutes!" growled Gower, coming out 
of the store from which a door opened on to 
the two-roomed living-house, " they might 
ha' left the copra an' stuff. Not a scrap ! 
Downright mean that, I call it. You'll have 
to buy it all over again, for, o' course, they'll 
come sneakin' back with it presently." 

Around the fence sat rows of the peculiarly 
light-skinned Aobans, male and female, 
chattering away to each other, the former 
dressed chiefly around their wrists and ankles 
with boars' tusks and strings of shells ; the 
latter wearing a double-tailed kirtle of plaited 
grass just big enough to swear by. 

Gower was in a hurry to get away ; so 
that evening he went on board, promising to 
return in a couple of months. Also, he 
declared his intention of asking the first 
warship he met to call and hold an inquiry 
into the murder of Jack the Whaler. 

I won't deny that as the men, just about 
sundown, solemnly and silently shook hands 
with me and trooped off to the boat I felt 
lonely. But I wasn't going to show it, and 
said " good-bye " cheerfully enough. 

u I I I '_' I I I 




Old Jack, it appeared, had been a con- 
firmed bachelor and woman-hater, so that 
there was little show of comfort or cleanliness 
about the single room he made serve for all 
purposes: Except Teroa, all the natives had 
gone. But that grey old scamp hovered 
around cackling in " sandalwood Jh English 
about the wonderful things he was going to 
do for me presently ; and, on the strength 
of them, begged first a stick of " baeca," 
then a pipe ; then, unsatisfied, he took a 
fancy to a knife, at which imposition 
on good nature I drove him forth with 
profanity into the night. Evidently he was 
taking my measure in view of future opera- 
tions, As to the length of his foot I was 
quite satisfied. In his younger days he had 
been "recruited" for Queensland, spent 
tlm;e years on the plantations, and learned 
more there than is fitting any savage should 
know and live. And when I noted how 
his bleary, bloodshot old eyes had snapped 
at sigh I of my well -stocked store-room I 
instinctively felt that the chances were he 
could, if he so pleased, tell a story in which 
those alleged hill-men who had swooped down 
on poor Jack would bear an extraordinary 
likeness to some 
of his subjects we 
had that day seen 
around us. 

Yes, decidedly 
it was lonely. The 
place was so si till ; 
no noise on sea 
or land — there is 
no surrounding 
reef at Aoba. 
Absolute silence 
everywhere on 
this first night as 
I sat eating a 
supper of sardines 
and biscuits, 
washed down with 
gin and water, by 
the light of a 
couple of candles 
stuck in bottles. 
A rat ran across 
the floor and 
made me jump 
again as I caught 
its shadow. De- 
cidedly this 
wouldn't do + I 
must have com- 
pany. The place 
was too quiet alto- 

gether After a while I went outside again 
and sat on the veranda and smoked and 
watched the Alerts riding light, and thought 
with something like regret of my vacant bunk 
in her snug fo'c's'le, of the fellows playing 
euchre and yarning, and of how Bill 
Jones was probably just now prophesying my 
speedy absorption into savage muscular and 
adipose tissue. Then I discovered that I 
was sitting nearly upon that dismal, dark- 
brown patch, and I shifted hastily away to 
the other end of the veranda, hating myself 
all the time for having to do so. In my 
ten years of life as a sort of second-class 
gentleman-adventurer I never remember my 
nerves being so much out of tune as they 
were that night. At last, getting sleepy, I 
went to bed, or rather lay down all standing, 
as we say at sea, on a pile of mats and rugs, 
with my two revolvers handy, and never 
woke till sunrise. 

I knew the Akrt was to have sailed that 
night. All the same, when I rose, the bay 
looked miserably empty, lacking the schooner. 
Throughout the morning 1 was busy unpack- 
ing cases of axes, tomahawks, mirrors, clocks, 
tobacco, beads, and all sorts of "Brummagem" 

stuff. Then I had a 
wash, put on a suit 
of white ducks, 
broad-leafed Pana- 
ma hat, and can- 
vas shoes, stuck 

mouth, and, quite 
tired of H bach- 
ing," went down 
to the village to 
look for a house- 
keeper. The 
Aoban maidens 
are, perhaps, the 
prettiest and most 
graceful of all 
women in the 
Western Pacific. 
Thus it was pre- 
sently quite a 
matter of embar- 
rassment to pick 
and choose 
amongst the crowd 
of laughing, chat* 
tering, dark eyed 
belles, who seemed 
to know intuitively 
what I wanted. 

** Me wi fee you? 


by Google 

Original from 



same white Mary," said one of the prettiest of 
the lot, with fine, regular features, beautiful 
teeth and eyes, and a complexion not a bit 
darker than a Spaniard— nay, much less so 
than many. 

" Halloa ! " I said, rather taken aback, " is 
there a missionary here, then ? And where 
did you learn to speak so finely, my pretty 
fair maid ? " 

Then I discovered that a missionary came 
over now and again from Espiritu Santo, 
twenty-five miles away, on a boat trip around 
these smaller islands. On one of these 
occasions he and his wife had taken Kuahua 
home with them, and she had stayed at the 
mission station for some time. Well, I 
cottoned to the giri at once, and all the more 
so when I learned that she had only one 
relative — an uncle — in the whole tribe. I 
had seen too many married traders eaten out 
of house and home by hordes of hungry 
hangers-on, all claiming kinship, until at last 
the luckless one had to take to the beach 
stone-broke. No, certainly, I had no mind 
for that sort of thing. Nor much, indeed, to 
be tied up hard and fast to any island girl, 
no matter how good-looking she might be. 
But I knew enough of " Missi " to be 
sure that, unless the thing was done 
properly and on the square, there'd be the 
deuce to pay. Some traders are always 
at loggerheads with the missionaries, not 
scrupling to tell them what they think of 
them in language more plain than polite. 
This I have found is a mistake. Missi — 
barring a few fads — is as often as not a real 
good sort, and when you've got him on your 
side you stand a better show to have your 
copra -house full than the other fellow who 
cuts up rough at religion. 

As luck would have it, I could talk the 
Mota Island dialect pretty fluently ; and as 
this is a sort of Pacific Volapuk — at least in 
many parts, of which I presently discovered 
Aoba to be one — I got on like a house 

And the more I yarned to Kuahua the 
more I was attracted by her. Not even 
when I discovered that the uncle in question 
was that cunning old badger Teroa was I to 
be choked off. And, on her part, the girl 
seemed to have taken an equal fancy to me. 
By this time all the others, thinking, I sup- 
pose, that the matter was settled, had drawn 
.away, leaving me and Kuahua sitting together 
on a log lying upon what was really the 
central green of the village, although so 
shrouded were the huts in thick foliage 
that only a bit of thatch was visible here 

and there through the bananas and 
pandanus leaves. Still, everywhere around 
I could hear chucklings and low whisper- 
ings that assured me of many hidden 
watchers. You might think, perhaps, from 
her preliminary speech that Kuahua was 
a forward minx, and one only too apt to 
take the initiative. But when we dropped 
the " sandalwood talk " and started on Mota 
I found, on the contrary, that she was a 
modest little thing enough, and one, too, 
with an innate love of fun and chaff, that 
had prompted her to make that somewhat 
startling advance to the stranger. Well, I 
thought there was no use in beating about 
the bush. I looked forward presently to 
having a ship of my own again, and didn't 
see why, like so many other skippers, I 
shouldn't have a home and a wife and family 
to welcome me back after my trips. So I 
asked her to send her uncle up to the store, 
gave her a kiss in token of a bargain made, 
and strolled off again. 

by C^OOgle 



I didn't know the etiquette of Aoba as 
regarded taking a wife from amongst the 
daughters of the land. But one thing I 
was sure of, knowing her precious uncle as . 
I did, and that was that I should have to 
pay through the nose for her. And so it 
proved. Teroa was at the store nearly as 
soon as I was. And the airs the old villain 
gave himself were wonderful to witness. 
You'd ha' thought the place belonged to 
him. This wasn't good enough, and that 
wasn't of first quality, and so on till at last 
he got me wild, and I threatened to brain 
him with a tomahawk. Then he became a 
little more moderate, and at last the deal 
was concluded for some two pounds' worth 
of trade, which, of course, I debited to 
wages account in my books. 

After he had been gone an hour a whole 
crowd of girls arrived with Kuahua. She 
had dropped the kirtle she wore when I first 
saw her and now, in honour of the occasion, 
sported an old, dirty print skirt, put on wrong 
side foremost, and a dungaree jumper that it 
struck me might well have been the property 
of the late whaler. Her long, black hair 
was stuck full of orchids and flame flowers, 
and looked just then the best part of her, for 
they'd painted one side of her nose red 
and the other white, and her cheeks were 
streaky with black and yellow. However, 
I took delivery ; made a little speech, 
and handed out some two-pound tins of 
Original from 




treacle and a score or so of ship's biscuits 
as my contribution to the wedding feast 
And they all sat down in a circle and then 
and there started operations. First unscrew- 
ing the lid, one dipped her finger in the 
molasses and licked it clean, and by that 
time the tin was round again. They were all 
young things about the same age as Kuahua, 
fifteen or sixteen, and the noise they made 
was something astonishing, especially when 
one tried to come the double by dipping out 
of her turn. The biscuits they took away 
with them, and the empty treacle-tins I saw 
afterwards cut up for ornaments. 

As soon as they were gone I got Kuahua 
to wash herself; and having some ready- 
made stuff amongst the trade, 1 rigged her 
out till she looked as nice and pretty as ever. 
I also changed her name to Alice, her own, 
so far as the pronunciation went, being too 
much like the call of a crow to suit my 
fancy< I didn't expect she could cook 
enough to keep herself warm — so very few 
native women can. But to my astonishment 
she fried a fish and some bacon and made 
some scones for dinner in a style that would 
have been hard to beat anywhere. And she 
bustled about, fixing things, and unpacking 
the bit of furniture and my few books 
like a born housewife, till I blessed Mrs. 

by Goosle 

Missionary, whoever she might 
be, and realized that, apart 
from the question of looks, I 
had acquired a real treasure, 
and a dirt-cheap one at that. 
Nor did I think any the worse 
of her because more than 
once she returned to the 
question of our being properly 
married, " just like white 
people." And I promised 
faithfully that the first time 
41 Missi " came around she 
should not only be married 
but christened into the bar- 
gain. At this she was so 
pleased that she came to me 
and put her arms about my 
neck and kissed me on the 
mouth, the first time she had 
done so of her own accord, 
and promised to be a good 
wife to me all the days of her 
life. And well ! one caiVt 
knock about the Islands for 
years without meeting all sorts 
of women from fair to precious 
bad, but I never remembered 
coming across one before like 
Alice. And it seemed absurd to think that 
a few weeks at a mission station could have 
knocked all the savagery out of her. Of 
course, my being able to talk to her was a 
big pull. Hut I still fancy she must have 
been what scientists call "a sport" — must 
have thrown back to some remote ancestor 
- perhaps one of the crews of De Quiro's or 
Torres's ships* 

Presently, taking a sharp, three-cornered 
scraper, I went on to the veranda and 
worked away at the nasty brown patch. But 
the wood was soft, and I found that, no 
matter how deep I went, the stain showed 
the same, nay, brighter, Rising from my 
knees, I met Alice's eyes fixed on me with a 
strange expression in them, and as they met 
mine the warm, rich blood rushed to her 
checks, -and she turned abruptly away. But 
I said nothing. Only, oddly enough, it 
struck me for the first time that, if what I 
suspected were true, then my newly formed 
family connection was not of the most 

That afternoon the stuff began to come in, 
and right up till dark there was a constant 
procession to and fro along the path from 
village to store. Much of the copra, tor- 
toiseshell, etc., had, I was certain, been 
under my roof before, and was now being 

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repurchased. Still I made no remark, and 
took all that was offered — at my own price. 
And long ere we finished the Aobans were 
quite satisfied that, though fair as fair went 
in such matters, I was by no means a softy 
or a new hand at the game. Of course there 
were growlers. But I formulated my scale 
of barter, and told them to like it or lump 
it, because it was fixed and changeless, 
as the laws of the Medes and Persians 
we used to read about at school. Jack 
the Whaler, I soon found, had given 
them spirits in the shape of gin, and 
there were frequent calls for " Squareface " 
— so named from the square -sided bottles 
that the liquor is generally put up in. My 
firm, however, had set its veto upon both 
strong waters and firearms. Thus there was 
more grumbling. But, having a monopoly, 
I kept a tight hand on them all, and by 
sundown could say I had done a capital 
day's work, both for myself by getting 
married, and for my employers by recovering 
at a quarter of its original cost most of the 
stolen produce. And how comfortable the 
house looked ! What a contrast to last 
night ! 

On the table a nicely -cooked meal ready 
on a snowy cloth, white curtains draping 
the windows and pretty mats the walls, a fine 
kerosene lamp showing plenty of light, and, 
last but not least, Alice, as clean and dainty 
as a brown pigeon, waiting to pour out the 
tea. Never for years had I felt so contented 
and comfortable as when, after supper, the 
pair of us lay outside on the long canvas 
lounge-chair whilst I smoked and listened to 
her prattle, some of it childish enough, but 
some of it full of grave matter concerning 
mainly our two selves and the prices of 

For a few weeks life was a pleasant dream, 
carrying only one trouble — old Teroa. 
For many reasons I did not wish to fall 
out with him : but felt that sooner or 
later we should come to loggerheads. 
And, one day, returning home from 
pigeon - shooting, and finding Alice in 
tears and her uncle, three parts drunk, 
rummaging in the store from which he had 
already helped himself to a liberal bundle of 
stuff, all tied up and ready to take away, I 
kicked him out of the yard and told him 
never to show his face near the place again. 
I also confiscated his plunder and the bottle 
of gin that he had abstracted from the single 
case I possessed. The old scamp, I found, 
had watched me off and then threatened to 
beat Alice and take her away from me. 

by Google 

All this to make her give up the key 
of the store of which, at last, he pos- 
sessed himself by main force. It was a 
great solace to me, as I listened, to 
think that only that very day I had put on 
a pair of heavily soled Wellington boots. But 
Alice was desperately uneasy, and insisted 
that I should never go abroad, even for my 
morning dip, unarmed. 

Shortly after this we were fishing one 
moonlight night just outside the narrow 
opening that led into the bay, when a sound 
of loud singing fell on our ears, and a big 
double canoe came flashing along from the 
south'ard, a score of oars rising and falling 
as one, whilst the rowers sang, in Mota : — 

See, the Gospel ship is sailing 

Straight to Canaan's happy shore ; 

Thousands she has safely landed, 

Still there's room for thousands more. 

" Missi ! Missi ! " shrilled Alice, and the 
passing canoe stopped instantly, a few strokes 
sending our own alongside it. 

A tall, thin, grey-bearded white man rose 
from a lounge-chair in the stern and greeted 
us as Alice introduced me. At first his face 
was hard and stern, and he viewed me with 
marked disfavour. But as the girl finished 
a rapid explanation he thawed and shook 
hands. He was, it appeared, on his way 
from Pentecost to Santa Maria Island, some 
fifty miles distant. " I have been far from 
well of late, Mr. Scott r " he said, "and 
perhaps may never return. So, if you'll 
come on board, I can marry you at once, 
as Kuahua — the best girl in this group or, I 
think, any other — tells me you are both 
anxious for a legal union." 

This was a bit sudden, certainly. But as 
I never meant to back out, I came up to the 
scratch straightaway. 

Everything was done in due form, even to 
the ring, I luckily happening to have a tor- 
toise-shell one on my little finger that fitted. 
Then Missi prayed and the Santo boys sang 
a hymn, and then Missi (the Rev. George 
Cleveland was his name) -at my request 
christened my wife — a ceremony that seemed 
to give her even more pleasure than the 
marriage one had done. Then the mis- 
sionary, standing up, as we all knelt, solemnly 
blessed us, and fervently prayed that long life 
and happiness might be our portion. And 
although the whole business was altogether 
out of my line, I can assure you I was rather 
impressed, whilst Alice simply blubbered 

We had by this time drifted well clear 
of the land ; there was no breath of wind ; the 




full moon shone on us, making things as light 
as day where we floated in a sea of liquid 
silver ; in front or us rose the great mass of 
Aoba silent, lefty, and mysterious-looking, its 
deep gullies shadowed in profound blackness, 
whilst, here and there, protruding spurs and 
shoulders stood out a shimmering maze of 

white, quiet sea and listened to the words of 
the old hymn, sung though they were in a 
strange tongue, yet coming sweetly enough lo 
us across the water, I somehow felt better and 
happier than I had done since I heard them 
so many long years ago as a child at church 
far away in dear old England. 




soft, pale, green woodland under the moon- 
beams—a scene I have never forgotten. 

Now the missionary drew up a certificate 
of marriage, which Alice took with a pride 
there was no concealing, whilst the boys, 
many of whom knew her, offered their con- 
gratulations. And then, after some talk - 
during which Mr. Cleveland, who seemed 
one of the real good sort, nnd not too fond 
of preaching and advising at a fellow, as are 
so many of his cloth, promised to give us a 
call tf he ever returned — the oars of the big 
canoe cut the water again, and the boys 
striking up "Jerusalem the Golden," off they 
went like a shot. 

So I, Tom Scott, was married at last ! 
And I swear to you that as I clasped my 
pretty little wife in my arms on the great, 

by Google 


But I soon had more 
matters than my marriage to think 
about before the honeymoon was 
over. Coming out one morning I 
saw a schooner at anchor in the 
bay, and presently heard from a 
sub-chief named Matakisala — a 
good customer with whom I was 
on friendly terms— that she had 
landed a trader and stores. Teroa, 
it seemed, had promised the new 
arrival all sorts of fine things if he 
would only set up amongst his 
people. And, as earnest, the old 
villain had already with a gang of 
natives commenced to erect a house 
for the stranger. This was serious 
news forme, more especially when I 
discovered that the vessel belonged 
to a Sydney firm which was in 
direct opposition to ours, so far 
as the Island trade was concerned. 
My employers were Brisbane mer- 
chants, and had worked up a good 
business with much trouble and 
perseverance against these people, 
in spite of the laiter's open disre- 
gard of the prohibition respecting 
drink, ammunition, and firearms 
which gave their agents a tremen- 
dous advantage over those of the 
more conscientious firm. So I well knew 
there were lively times ahead. Nor was I 
mistaken. Never a customer came near my 
store now. But all night long from the 
village proceeded the sound of drunken 
revelry and the discharge of guns. So, 
pocketing my dignity, I one morning strolled 
along the beach to the opposition shop, 
curious to see how matters were going. 

To my astonishment I found that the 
trader was a rank new-chum — a big, fat, puffy- 
faced, helpless sort of creature. And he had 
been giving out goods tw tick! No wonder 
I couldn't do any business \ Cases of old 
muzzle-loading muskets, warranted to burst 
in a week ; others of " Key " gin, kegs of 
gunpowder, together with all sorts of (lerman- 
made rubbish, lay about in fine confusion. The 

Original from 



trader — Lawler was his name — couldn't speak 
a word of any of the ten thousand languages 
in the Islands. Nor had he even the cheap gift 
of " sandalwood " talk. So that a more poor 
lost sheep you couldn't well imagine — sur- 
rounded as he was by crafty and treacherous 
savages. What sort of bowels the schooner's 
captain must have had to go away and leave 
a man like that in such a position it beat me 
to conceive. 

As I arrived, it appeared that Lawler had 
shut down on any further tick He wanted 
copra and shell first. So far he hadn't got a 
pound of either. Old Teroa was bossing the 
show, sitting on the rough counter and 
demanding " Squareface." He was for buy- 
ing a bottle at once, and proffered a bunch 
of bananas for it ! But even Lawler wasn't 
that far gone, and refused his modest deal. 
Then Teroa got nasty, and, giving me a 
vicious look, seized a bottle out of one of the 
cases that had been opened, and cleared 
with it. 

I expected to see Lawler pursue and 
recover the thing, if not thrash the thief 
into the bargain. But judge of my surprise 
when the fellow only smiled and said : 
" Well, I suppose it won't do to offend the 
chief. He'll settle for it and the other goods 
he's had all right. Treat 'em civilly. That's 
my plan. Kickin' don't pay hereabouts." 
And he sniggered in a style that at once 
showed me how the land lay. However, 
opposition or no opposition, I wasn't going 
to see him robbed right and left without 
making an effort to stop it. But I might as 
well have spared my breath. 

He knew this and he knew that. I had 
been too hard and strict with the natives, 
therefore they were all coming to his store. 
I had kicked the chief, thus ruining all 
chance of business for my firm, and so on 
and so on. 

" You come here givin' me advice," he 
concluded. " Well, if that ain't a good 'un ! 
Why, look at these, an' then tell me as I ain't 
goin' the right way to work. The cheek o' 
some folks ! " And the poor fool produced a 
bundle of sheets of foolscap covered with 
the names of natives set against the amounts 
debited to them, and all nicely titivated off 
by lines ruled in red ink. Well, he got my 
monkey up properly ; and after letting him 
'know in very forcible terms what his fate 
would presently be, I walked away home and 
told Alice all about it 

" They'll kill him, Tom, pretty soon, now 
he won't give them any more stuff," said she, 
calmly. " That's why Teroa persuaded him 

by Google 

to settle here. Well, that'll be so much the 
better for you, won't it ? " 

" All very fine, Mrs. Scott " (she dearly 
loved the title), I replied. " But hang it, he's 
a white man ! And you know we can't 
stand by and look on, although he is such a 
confounded fool ! " 

"Suppose we interfere," replied my wife, 
sagely shaking her head, "we'll get our own 
goose cooked too " (she had already picked 
up some slang from me, and could twist it into 
Mota quite easily). "And once they smell 
blood, one white man won't satisfy 'em. Bet 
your life on that, Tom ! Then they'll go for 
us. Matakisala won't help us. He's just as 
bad as Teroa, although he sterns so soft 
and nice that butter won't melt on his 
tongue. It was he who killed Jack on the 

" Why, I always put that job down to 
Teroa," I said, surprised. 

"Oh," she said; "Teroa held his arms 
whilst the other clubbed him. You never 
asked, or I would have told before. We 
girls heard all about it. This way it 
happened : — 

" 'Good day,' says Teroa, coming up where 
Jack sat over there peeling yams. i I got 
fine lot shell ; you come along down to my 
house and see.' 

" 'Oh, go to blazes ! ' says Jack, very cross. 
'Your shell no good — all bad colour and 
cracked/ Then Teroa gammon to slip, and 
he fell on top of old Jack and held him tight 
And then Matakisala come out of the bush, 
and one— two — poum ! poum ! all over ! " 

" Oh," I said, "that was it, was it?" 

A couple of evenings after this, learning 
" from information received " that matters 
were coming to a crisis below there, I took 
one of the Winchesters, buckled on my 
revolvers and a belt of cartridges to fit the 
lot, and despite the entreaties of my wife 
went off like a silly ass to make one last 
attempt at saving my rival. 

Rather to my surprise there wasn't a soul 
about the place. 

" Halloa," said I, entering the store, " all 
your friends deserted you, eh ? " 

" Not much ! " said he, with that aggravat- 
ing snigger of his. " They've only gone to 
get themselves up for a grand dance they're 
to give me to-night." 

" Oh ! " said I, smelling a rat. " Now, you 
take my tip and come home with me, or 
you'll be dead meat before the morning." 

" Garn ! " he grinned, in his nasty, flash, 
Sydney fashion. "What yer givin' us? 
You're the sort as makes mischief, you are, 

Original from 


2 00 


maskeradin* around, piled up to the teeth 
with guns an* pistols," 

M You won't come? " I said, desperately. 

"Not half a come," said lie, "Think I'm 
scared, like you ? " 

"Then God help you, 5 ' I replied, solemnly, 
"for I can't ! Listen to the brutes howling, 
and the drums 
beating as a 
signal for your 

11 Oh, give us 
a rest ! ff lie 
exclaimed, im- 
** They're dniy 
preparing for 
the dance." 

But as he 
spoke he came 
to the door and 
looked out, and 
I thought I 
detected an un- 
easy note in his 
voice. It was 
nearly dark 
n o \v . A n d 
from the vil- 
lage, about five 
hundred yards 
away, we could 
see advancing 
a yelling, danc 
ing crowd, amidst which here 
and there glittered newly- 
lit torches, whilst ever the 
big upright drums before 
the council -house boomed 

" I must go an' meet 'em, I suppose/' said 
Lawler, but in rather a doubtful tone. 

" If you do you'll never come back alive," 
I replied, 

" Won't you keep me company, too?" he 
asked, in a mocking sort of voice that jet 
held a tremor in it. 

"Not to-night, thanks," I said. "How- 
ever, there's still time for you to clear if you 
know when you're well off." 

Hut lie shook his head, and, diving into 
the store, returned with a bottle in each hand 
and advanced towards the mob, now lit up 
by do/ens of torches, whilst I slipped into 
the st: nib and peered from behind a tree. 
There was just a doubt, and I thought I'd 
like to make sure. Before, however, he got 
close up to the crowd he must have seen 
something that frightened him, for I saw him 


by Google 

suddenly drop the bottles and run back 
towards the store. The next minute they 
were upon him ; there was a shriek or two, 
and a scuffle as of a lot of dogs worry- 
ing a 'possum ; then the crowd divided 
and disclosed something white that, even as 
I looked, writhed feebly along the ground. 

The rifle was 
at my shoulder 
with finger 
pressing the 
trigger ; and in 
another second 
I should have 
made a fool of 
myself, when 1 
saw Matakisala 
rush up and 
drive a big 
spear clean 
through the 
prostrate body, 
pinning it to 
the earth. Then, 
whilst a mob of 
hoys slung it 
to poles and 
carried it away 
towards the 
village, the rest 
with shouts of 
triumph rushed 
to the store. 
The tree be- 
hind which I stood was 
close to the end of the 
building that faced the bush, 
The house had been slung 
together in a hurry to protect 
the "trade/* and was com- 
posed mainly of reeds and palm-leaves. And 
as I now ran past this end to gain the denser 
shelter of a hig clump of bananas, and so by 
a roundabout route home, a thought struck 
me and, returning, I lit a match and applied 
it to the reeds. Already the interior I could 
hear was full of savages, and my heart leapt 
as I remembered the gunpowder and made 
hot foot for cover. But so dry were the 
walls that they flamed up like kerosene, 
giving such a vivid and sudden light as 
disclosed me to some of the Aobans as 
they streamed out from the store in dismay. 
Yelling with rage, a score or so of them 
gave chase and, almost In- tore I knew it, 
they were at my heels, The bush was thick, 
and, fearful of getting surrounded, I turned a 
little and steered for the beach. Here it was 
lighter, and soon arrows began to sing by 
Original from 



me, whilst presently what I had apprehended 
came to pass, and many black figures ap- 
peared on the beach ahead. Knowing the 
bush paths so well they had taken short cuts 
and were now between me and the station. 

I didn't want to shoot. But, as I am a 
poor runner and was nearly winded, I saw 
there was no help for it. Already one 
arrow had grazed my shoulder in token 
that my pursuers meant business, and I 
could hear others, now with a bullet or 
two, coming thicker and thicker. So, turning, 
I fired a couple of shots at the nearest 
niggers. But the starlight was bad to aim by, 
and I missed. The crowd in front was 
approaching, and matters, I thought, looked 
none too well for trader number two. Just 
then the burning store flamed up fiercer than 
ever, and seizing my chance as the savages 
showed up against the red glow, I dropped 
on one knee and gave them Half-a-dozen 
plumbers that made them scatter shrieking 
for the shelter of the scrub, whilst almost like 
an echo of my shots came a fusillade ahead. 
Flash after flash streamed from the dark belt 
of bush bordering the beach ; and as I soon 
turned my fire on that mob they, too, 
presently broke and fled. 

" Come along, Tom ! " cried a well-known 
voice, as I toiled through the sand. "Get 
up here, and you'll run better." 

"Why, Mrs. Scott," I panted, as, joining 
her, we both made tracks for the station, 
" what brought you out shooting on a night 
like this?" 

" Good thing I did come, I think," replied 
Alice, skipping along in front. " If I hadn't 
you'd never have reached home." 

"Tut, tut," I replied, severely, for it's bad 
policy to encourage any woman in too good 
an opinion of herself. " I was getting along 
nicely when you made all that noise." 

She laughed, and was about to speak when 
a tremendous report, followed by another, 
seemed to shake the island to its foundations. 
My wife squealed and ran back to me, and I 
was pleased to be able to carelessly remark : 
" Only poor Lawler's powder, Mrs. Scott, and 
I hope some dozen or so of your gentle 
countrymen with it." 



I was glad when at last, unmolested, we 
gained the house, for I felt weaker than I 
cared to admit, the arrow wound having bled 
freely. At first Alice turned a sort of nasty 
slate colour when she saw the ragged tear, 
and examined it eagerly and minutely for a 

Vol. xxi.-26 

minute or two. Then, as the blood came 
back to her face, she said : " My word, 
Tom ! I thought for a bit it was dead-man- 
arrow. Suppose it was, you snuff out like a 
candle. But it's only a fish one — all right ! " 

The Aobans, it seems, lay their war arrows 
in a piece of putrid human body till the 
barbs get thoroughly impregnated with the 
poison. A scratch from a point so prepared 
is held to be venomous enough to insure a 
most painful death. Fishing arrows, such as 
Alice pronounced my wound to be mode by, 
are of course innocuous, and as soon as it 
was dressed with Friar's balsam and ban- 
daged, except for a slight stiffness it felt as 
right as ever. 

Down in the village they were kicking up 
an awful row, yelling and wailing and 

" I suppose we'll have 'em here presently," 
I said. 

" Not to-night," replied Alice, unconcern- 
edly getting tea ready. "Eat t'other fellow 
first. My people never like dark. Too many 
wicked spirits go about. Come early 
to-morrow morning. I think, Tom, we'd 
better get off in a boat. No use stopping 
here. We can take a canoe and go over to 
Missi's place. I know the way all right." 

" And leave the store and trade and every- 
thing to those cannibals yonder? No, Mrs. 
Scott, I'm blowed if I do !" I replied, 

" All ritee," said Alice, with resignation, 
and dropping into " sandalwood," which 
she knew I hated to hear her at. "Aoba 
mans kaikai (eat) us plenty morrow. Plenty 
angry Teroa. Mate, mate (kill), you— tne. 
Burn Tomkotta— Alice all ee same rat!" 
And she pointed to the thatched roof. My 
face fell as I followed her uplifted finger. 
Decidedly she had put it on our weak point. 
Still, I couldn't make up my mind to abandon 
so much property without a struggle. And 
after a good deal of argument I brought 
Alice round to the same view of the question. 
At least she agreed with all I said. But I 
could easily see that she was quite hopeless. 
Still, she went to work willingly enough to help 
me strengthen the place to the best of our 
ability. That fatal mass of reeds and grass 
overhead, covering the whole building, dry 
as tinder, and resting on a network of split 
bamboo equally dry, appeared, however, to 
paralyze all our efforts. And her prediction 
as to the Aobans burning us out like rats 
and then killing and eating us seemed in a 
fair way of fulfilment. A single fire-stick 
thrown from cttefcalsfcrub that ran right up to 




the back of the house would set everything 
in a blaze. 

After we had done all we could by way of 
carrying water from the little spring, boring 
loopholes in the slabs, and strengthening 
bars and bolts, Alice went to bed and slept as 
calmly as a child. It was not so on my side. 
I knew that we could save our skins even now 
if I but said the word. There were lots of 
canoes on the beach, and nothing would be 
easier than to steal one whilst the savages 
were absorbed in their horrid ceremonies, 
whose wild accompaniments of yells and 
drummings fell on my ear throughout the 
night as 1 prowled about restless and uneasy, 
not at all appreciating this rude break in our 

Just before sunrise the fun commenced 
with a volley of bullets and shot that rattled 
against the slabs and sent Alice flying for her 
rifle. Then a blazing 
lump of matting 
wrapped in a stone 
was flung on the roof. 
To our delight a very 
heavy dew had fallen 
over night saturating 
the surface of the 
thatch, and the fire 
merely fizzled and 
went out Of course 
we knew that this 
was only a respite 
till the sun grew 
stronger Still it en- 
couraged us. Another 
bit of good hick now 
happened. Seeing a 
suspicious shaking 
amongst the tall 
crotons that grew 
along inside the yard 
fence I, out of mere 
curiosity, took a 
snap - shot at the 
place* Whereupon 
out sprang that 
treacherous devil, 
Matakisala, stood 
upright for a mo- 
merit, and then 

plunged over full length, pulling at the 
tough-stemmed weeds with his fingers, and 
sticking his toes in the soil till he dragged 
himself nearly to the spot on the veranda 
where he had clubbed the poor "Whaler." 
And just there he died, apparently in great 
atjony, shot through the spine. 

There was a tremendous lot of noise and 

1 on stkam; matakisala. 

smoke on their side, but no damage done 
except to themselves and the rotten old 
muskets into whicli they put half a fistful 
of powder for a charge, with, generally, the 
effect of sending the marksman head over 
heels. Three or four I picked off through 
exposing themselves in this way. Alice, too, 
at the front of the house potted others by 
firing at the smoke; and presently their first 
enthusiastic opening cooled down con- 
siderably. But they yelled and shrieked out 
threats to us in Mota of what they would do 
in the sweet by-and-by ; and at intervals a 
flaming test- message dropped on the yet 
damp thatch. As for the round bullets, 
moulded out of soft lead, they simply 
flattened against the iron wood slabs like so 
many bits of dough* And to our delight the 
day kept dull and the sky overcast. Once or 
twice I caught a glimpse of Teroa and shot 

at him without effect. 
They now set the 
low stockade on fire, 
and the palm palings 
burned away in no 
time, leaving only a 
line of smoking black 
embers in place of 
the beautiful flower- 
ing creeper This 
was a foolish move 
on their part, des- 
troying shelter from 
which they might 
have annoyed us. 
But they wanted to 
see something going, 
and their yells of 
delight at the 
achievement were 

Matakisala lay 
stretched out face 
downwards, his 
brawny, tusk-bmided 
arms extended, and 
the stiff ridge of hair 
the Aobans affect, 
reaching from brow 
to crown, sticking 
out like the old- 
fashioned pompon on a soldier's hat. From 
below his narrow girdle of matting a dark 
stream slowly oozed, and already the ants 
were busy with him. Particularly friendly 
he had seemed, all the time doubtless watch- 
ing for a chance to work the (i Whaler " 
oracle on me. Nor had I forgotten the 
way he skewered that poor fool Lawler. 




At this moment I caught sight of a bit of 
Teroa's ragged, grey beard poking round the 
trunk of a hibiscus sapling. I was about to 
fire when a sudden idea struck me, and I 
called Alice across to my side. 

" Mrs. Scott," I said, " you're not a very 
good shot, but do you think you could make 
a hole in that lovely uncle of yours if you 
got a chance ? " 

" Td try hard, Tom," she said, indignantly. 
11 He'd soon do the same for me. And you 
didn't say I couldn't shoot last night." 

"All right, then, my dear," I replied, 
"you watch through that corner while I 
open the shutter so as to give my other 
voice a show. If I could only patter your 
lingo we'd have the old rat sure. Do you 
ever talk Mota amongst yourselves ? " 

" Very seldom, except to strangers," replied 
Alice ; " Missi and a few of the ships' men 
and traders." 

" Well," I replied, " I'm going to try what 
I can do, anyhow. Keep your eye on that 
lump of rock there. If I have any luck 
you'll see Teroa make a run for it presently, 
and then you pot him." 

It was a long time since I had practised 
my ventriloquial powers, and by disuse one 
is apt to lose the hang of the thing altogether. 
But now, essaying a preliminary attempt, to 
my great satisfaction I found that I could 
throw my voice into the bedroom and 
round the house in such wise as startled 
Alice half out of her wits. But, when I 
rapidly explained, her admiration knew no 
bounds, although she still seemed to think 
there was something uncanny about the 

Then, opening the shutter very quietly, I 
sent a call from behind the rock, imitating 
Alice's voice as much as possible, and ending 
in the long-drawn, peculiar wail that with the 
natives is a sign of pain or trouble : — 

" Uncle ! Oh, my uncle, come and fetch 
me. I'm frightened and want to get away — 
O— oh ! " 

The old savage's head popped fully into 
sight at this, and I could distinctly make 
out his amazed look as he stared at the big 
boulder whence the voice seemed to proceed. 

" Come, oh, my uncle," I wailed again. 
" My leg's hurt by a bullet and I can't walk 
— O-oh ! " 

11 Where are you ? " shouted Teroa, drop- 
ping on his belly amongst a lot of thick 
brush. Alice translated, and I quickly 
replied in Mota : " Here, here, behind the 
stone. Come and carry me away, oh, my 
uncle ! *' 

"Yes, yes, I come," replied Teroa, this 
time in Mota, "not to carry but to kill, oh, 
wicked one ! " And at that he crawled out 
of the bush on all fours, going rapidly, 
gripping a short, broad-bladed knife between 
his teeth, and looking for all the world like 
a big yellow pig with a white head and a 
bone in its mouth. * 

The distance might have been twenty 
yards ; he was already more than half-way 
across, and I had caught up my own rifle, 
when bang went Alice's from the corner, and 
Teroa rolled over and over as does a rabbit 
shot at too short range. 

" Well done, Mrs. Scott," I shouted, firing 
again as he rose to his knees and tried to 
make off on one leg, dragging the other after 
him in such fashion as showed a broken 
thigh-bone. The second shot hit him in the 
shoulder, and bowled him over motionless. 
Then there was a rush of a dozen men, who 
caught him up and carried him off, losing 
three of their number in doing so. 

This business got the besiegers' backs up 
properly, and a regular hailstorm of bullets 
and arrows came at us, mingled with burning 
lumps of mat and sennit that stuck all over 
the roof. Suddenly I noticed a cloud of 
dark smoke float away over the tops of the 

" We're done, old woman ! " I exclaimed, 
as wild yells of triumph emphasized the fact. 
" It's caught at last ! " 

" Look ! look, Tom ! " shrilled Alice, in 
answer, from the front of the house. " There's 
a ship— a big, big one ! " 

Rushing across the room I peeped out 
and saw the finest and most tantalizing sight 
the world could show me just then — a British 
man-o'-war letting go her anchor in the bay, 
the red cross flag fluttering at her peak 
halliards. Directly I clapped eyes on her 
I knew her for the Scylla — a heavily armed 
cruiser sent out from England to take the 
place of an old-fashioned corvette, and a 
share in the dual control with France over 
the New Hebrides. 

If they could only be brought to under- 
stand the extreme tightness of the hole we 
were in ! But perhaps, and most likely, they, 
complete strangers as they were, would think 
that all the row was merely made by natives 
fighting amongst themselves. Had Gower 
and the Akrt, I wondered, met the warship 
and, as he promised, sent her to inquire 
about the murder of Old Jack? But all that 
would take time, and we — Alice and I — had 
none whatever to spare. Already a large 
circular opening had burnt in the thatch and 




was smouldering overhead, whilst thick smoke 
began to fill the house. And all around us 
the savages were yelling like demons, darting 
from tree to tree and firing incessantly. 

(t It's a case, Mrs. Scott ! ' I exclaimed to 
Alice, who was busy 
chucking at the fire 
ineffectual dippers 
of water, which re- 
turned on our heads 
in a black stream, 
" We'll have to run 
the gauntlet to the 
beach— make a bolt 
for it. And a jolly 
poor show we'll 
stand ! You buckle 
on this revolver mid 
take your rifle, and 
come when I give 
the word." 

Before opening 
the door t however, 
and venturing on 
our terribly forlorn 
rush down the half- 
mile of rough 
scrubby country 
between us and the 
sea y we commenced 
a heavy fusillade to 
clear, if possible, 
the dodging niggers 
in front of the 
house. Lumps of 
burning thatch were 
now falling plenti- 
fully into the living 
rooms, and I knew 
much longer. 

Suddenly, pausing for a minute to refill 
the magazine of my rifle, my ga/e instinct- 
ively seeking the warship, I saw that she had 
her boats in the water ; and even white I 
looked a cloud of white smoke curled from 
her bows, followed by a thunderous explosion 
louder than that of Lawless gunpowder. The 
next minute I thought an earthquake had 
burst at the rear of the house, whilst a thick 
rain of rocks and branches and leaves and a 
human limb or two came showering down 
through the burning roof. Running to the 
back window I saw in place of the clumps of 
trees and underbrush that had offered such 
fine cover for our foes only the big pit that a 
6in. shell makes at a mile range into soft 

we could not delay 

by Google 

It was a lovely bit of practice, indeed, 
and as I learned later was due to Gower 
--himself an ex-R.N. gunner — who, at once, 
guessing pretty nearly the state of affairs, had 
begged permission, and with his own hands 

laid the piece. Ke 
had, it seemed, left 
the Alert at Anei- 
tyum, and, at the 
request of the man- 
o'-war's captain, 
come along as pilot 
and prosecutor in 

" Thank the 
Lord, 1 * said he, as 
ten minutes later 
he camu charging 
up the hill with the 
Scy/ia's bluejackets. 
"Thank the Lord 
the store's safe, any- 
how ! But it was 
touch and go ! " 

So it was, without 
a doubt. The 
sailors, however, 
soon had the roof 
off, and a temporary 
one fixed of old 
sails and tarpaulins. 
Teroa was picked 
up still alive, but 
he died that night 
And the Aobans 
had received a 
lesson that I don't 
think they'll 
ever forget. The little picnic Tve been 
telling you about happened over seven years 
ago, but I've never had one of them look 
cross ways at me since. People said I'd be 
sorry for staying and settling on the place. 
But I never have been* I'm my own boss 
now, with a couple of sm:irt boats, each 
bigger than the Akrt ; no end of a 
plantation, a fine house (iron -roofed, though), 
the best wife in the Western or any other 
Pacific, and a family of youngsters all steps 
and stairs, and a shade lighter-coloured than 
myself* And sometimes Mrs* Scott remarks 
thoughtfully as she watches them — she 
speaks "real" English now, and only nngs 
at the servants in "sandalwood": "Tom, 
my dear/' she'll say, u that was a regular 
bobby dazzler of a honeymoon we had in 
the old house, wasn't it ? " 

Original from 

we'll have to mak'e a noi-T huh it. 1 " 

Some Oitt-of-the-Way R< cords. 

By Frederick A. Talbot. 


that particular 
line. Some 
experience ,i 
great delight 
in establish- 
ing records in 
order to gain 
the wide- 
spread noto- 
riety which 
generally re- 
sults from the 
of such re- 
in a r k a b 1 e 
feats, while 
others be- 
come record - 
though their 
efforts may often be 
quite as extraordinary 
and equally interest- 
It is an honourable 
achievement for a boy 
whose school life has 
extended over a period 
of nearly eleven years 
never to have missed 
a single attendance 
throughout the whole 
of that time. Yet this 
is the unique record 
possessed by Master 
Abel Roberts, of Llan- 
gollen. He was ad- 
mitted into the infant 
department of the 
Board School in that 
town in iS88j when he 
was only three years of 
age. From the infants' 
school he duly passed 
into that of the seniors, 
Altogether for ten 

HIS is the age of records. 

Scarcely a day passes but 
some new and startling 
achievement is accomplished, 
completely eclipsing any others 
that may already be extant in 


From a Ph/ito. fry Ltttmme d Som, Unngotitn, 

years and nine months he was present both 
morning and afternoon with unerring regu- 
larity and punctuality, not even being com- 
pelled to absent himself from his schoo! 
duties on one single occasion through illness. 
Evidently great rivalry exists between the 
scholars of that school regarding their 
regular attendance, since another boy 
boasted a similar record for six years. 

Many of our members of Parliament 
have occasionally treated the House to 
abnormally long discourses, but it is 
doubtful whether any constituent has yet 
rivalled the celebrated speech of Dr, 
Otto Lechter, a member of the Austrian 
Parliament, who on one occasion spoke 
for no less 
than twelve 
hours off 
the reel. 
Dr. Otto 
Lechter re- 
presents the 
of Brunn, 

in Moravia, M J 

and his 




From a Photograph.. 

party, which comprises 
t 'regressive Germans, 
were in a large mi- 
nority in 1897. An 
important subject 
was in debate, and 
Dr. Pechter rose to 
expound the views 
of his party thereon 
and to defend their 
interests. He com- 
menced his speech at 
nine o'clock in the 
evening, and spoke to 
a full House through- 
out the whole night 
until nine o'clock 
the following morn- 
: "J?ig._ During the twelve 

TTHiVEBrmfr MiOTitB 



Jfartii a fhato, kg] t;onCii!i.i), 


ItYaJrtfrp, A {ford. 

hours he was speaking he never 
once sat down or stopped, except 
to take, now and again, a sip of 
black coffee. His speech was one 
of the most brilliant that have 
ever been delivered in the Austrian 
Parliament, and was described as 
never once failing in interest or 
power throughout the whole time, 
neither did he repeat a single sen- 

In the little village of I^ngton 
Spilsby there resides a hale and 
hearty old woman whose matri- 
monial name is Mrs. Anne Fletcher, 
but who is familiarly known among 
the villagers as the "Century of 
Babies. 1 * That is not to say that 
Mrs. Fletcher is the happy possessor 
of such a huge colony of infants, 
but is due to the unique fact that 
she has carried over one hundred 
babies to be baptized. Curious to 
relate, not one of these children is 
her own progeny, since she is child- 
less. She is passiona 

children, however, and she somewhat atones 
for her own loss by becoming godmother to 
the little ones of her more fortunate neigh- 
bours. The baby she is shown nursing upon 
her knee in our illustration is her one- 
hundredth godchild. 

Captain John Whit more Bennett has 
travelled 30,000 times across the English 
Channel. Until his recent retirement he 
was the oldest commander of the cross- 
Channel services from Folkestone and 
Dover, his term of service having extended 
over a period of fifty-three years. He first 
joined the fleet of boats sailing under the 
flag of the South- Eastern Railway Company 
between Ostend, Calais, and Boulogne. 
AftLr sixteen years' connection with this 
company he relinquished his position to join 
the London, Chatham, and Dover Company, 
and initiated their steamboat service between 
Dover and the Continent. He can relate 
many interesting reminiscences, especially in 
connection with Royal personages travelling 
between this country and the Continent, and 
on one occasion he carried the German 
Emperor ashore when he was a little boy, 

sionate V<36ogTe^ 

JOHN WHm.O« RKqij^kp^SEt. T 


I A ir*..#j, It.rtr, 



Hans Angeli and Rittnrieister Eugene 
Baron Forgatsch accomplished a notable ft at 
in August, j 898, when they swam down the 
River Danube from Vienna to Presburg, in 
Hungary. The distance represents about 
thirty-eight English 
miles, and these two 
intrepid swimmers 
covered the journey 
in seven hours. They 
were unaccompanied ; 
they never left the 
water; and neither 
did they take any 
refreshment in the 
way of food or drink 
from the time they 
plunged into the river 
at Vienna until they 
emerged again at 
Presburg. It would 
be almost impossible 
to devise a less expensive method of travel- 
ling than this, especially when one emulates 
the example of these two record-breakers, 
who carried their clothes on their backs in a 
patent waterproof hag invented by Angeli, 

Another swimmer who has probably 
achieved more wonders in the water than 
any aquatic champion since the days of the 
late Captain Webb is Montague A, Holbein, 
the famous long-distance cyclist. He scored 
first honours 
on July 2 5th , 
1899, when he 
swam forty-three 
miles in the 
Thames in a 
little under 
twelve and a half 
hours- He en- 
tered the water 
at Blackw T all Pier 
early in the morn- 
ing, and, with 
the advantage of 
the strong ebb 
tide, swam down 
the river until he 
had progressed 
two miles beyond 
Gravesend, fak- 
ing advantage of 
the turn of the 
tide he swam on the flood back to BUick- 
wall, but just failed to reach the pier owing 
to the unfortunate failure of the tide. 
Although he had been in the water for so 
many hours without a rest he was quite fresh 

and strong when he once more donned his 

A month later Holbein defeated his 
Thames record by another marvellous swim 
in the Solent, where he covered forty -six 

miles in twelve hours. 
He dived into the 
water near the Spit 
Fort at Portsmouth, 
at twenty minutes to 
eight in the morning, 
and although the 
water was choppy 
and a disagreeable 
wind was blowing 
against the tide the 
swimmer soon settled 
determinedly down 
to his task. Not 
once during the 
whole journey did he 
evince any signs of 
fatigue or exhaustion, and at the end of 
twelve hours his friends, who had accom- 
panied him in the boat, had great difficulty 
to persuade him to leave the water. Had 
it nut been for the rapidly approaching 
darkness Holbein undoubtedly would have 
continued on his way for another hour or two. 
His performances, however, in the Thames 
and the Solent rank as two of the finest 
feats in the annals of aquatics, while they are 

rendered still 


From a Photoyrtiph* 

more remarkable 
by the fact that 
they are the 
longest distances 
ever covered by 
swimming. Hol- 
bein's uiiima 
thuk is to emu- 
late Captain 
Webb in swim- 
ming across the 
English Channel 
from Dover to 
Calais; and judg- 
ing from the won- 
derful stamina he 
displayed in the 
successful accom- 
plishment of the 
foregoing efforts, 
there seems every 

possibility of the attempt being crowned with 

success, providing wind and weather are pro- 

pitious to such an event, 

Another traveller who aspires to make 

himself famous by creating the record of 


TWI I VJ II- ■!!.-. 



f'j-mn -J t'htila. by Ln/itjfittfi M'-f-, Mwbfirt. 

having walked round the world is George 
Melville Boy n ton, He started from San 
Francisco early on the morning of August 
13th, 1897, and he is still tramping. Re- 
started attired in a paper suit of clothes and 
with no money in his pockets, his object 
being to live on the hospitality of the in- 
habitants of the various countries through 
which he passed. The estimated distance is 
3T,ooo miles, and he is to accomplish the 
task within a stated time. This remarkable 
feat of pedestrianism is the outcome of a 
wager. If Boynton succeeds, a sum of 
5o,oQodoK will be paid over to charities in 
San Francisco by the other parties to the 
wager. Boynton reached England some 
months ago, and, after touring the country, 
left for the Continent. Judging from the 
present rate of progiess there seems every 
prospect of the globe-trotter fulfilling the 

wager. It is to be hoped that he will— for 
charity's sake. 

Another young man who suddenly attracted 
public notice last year as the result of a remark- 
able achievement was Master A. K r J. Collins, 
who ruthlessly upset cricket records by scoring 
628 runs not out in a single innings, This 
mammoth score was recorded in a school 
match at Clifton. Mr. A. E. S tod dart, the 
well-known Middlesex amateur, hitherto pos- 
sessed the unique record of having scored 
the largest number of runs in one single 
innings, his contribution being 485 not out, 
scored for Hampstead against the Stoics in 
1SS5. Great though this achievement was, 
it was completely eclipsed by young Collins's 
effort, and it will be a difficult record for any 
other cricketer to defeat. Altogether Collins, 
whose portrait we are enabled to reproduce 
through the kind permission of his mother, 
was batting seven hours, his rate of scoring 
therefore averaging about ninety runs per 

It is a moot point whether any pastime 


From a Photo. 4? IF, //. 4/uiiHnf«P £ { 





renders such 
opportunities to 
the record- 
breaker as cy- 
cling. One of 
the latest and 
greatest at tempts 
to obtain distinc- 
tion in this direc- 
tion is the en- 
deavour of Mr. 
Edward Hale, the 
veteran cyclist, 
who successfully 
achieved the rask 
of riding one 
hundred miles 
every day for 
twelve months, 
Sundays ex- 
cepted. Some 
little while ago 
an American 
essayed the task 
of riding fifty 
miles per day 
for the same 
period, but such 
a performance 
sinks into insig- 
nificance in com- 
parison with this 
latest effort. Mr. Hale started on July 31st, 
1899, and completed the twelve months on 
July 30th, having cycled over 30,000 miles 
on the various high roads 
of the United Kingdom — 
a quite unprecedented 
ride. Mr, Hale performed 
his task upon an Acatene 
chain less cycle, and the 
same machine fulfilled his 
requirements for the whole 
year. It will be observed 
in our photo, that the 
machine is fitted with two 
handle - bars ; the upper 
one is for easy riding on 
Rood roads and with a 
back wind ; while the cither 
the dropped pattern — 
is for fast work and hi 11- 
climbing, Mr* Hale ex- 
perienced absolutely no 
ill-effects from his feat. 
As an example of physical 
endurance the ride is re- 
markable, while the high 
standard of excellence 

Vol. ix L— 27* 

and durability of 
the cycle is appa- 

We have heard 
of those zealous 
swimmers who, 
sooner than miss 
their morning dip 
in the Serpentine, 
have sallied forth 
in the depth of 
w inter armed 
with pickaxes and 
similar weapons 
in order to break 
the ice, but it is 
doubtful whether 
their enthusiasm 
could equal that 
of the late Mr. 
Joseph Pollard, 
formerly swim- 
ming master of 
the South Shields 
Swimming Club. 
For more than 
nineteen and a 
half years he had 
indulged, with un- 
erring regularity, 
jn a morning 
bathe in the 
North Sea. He commenced his unique 
record on September 29th, 1877, and con- 
tinued it till May 5th, 1897. This represents 
something like 7,1 19 dips, 
and during the whole of 
that time he only missed 
forty mornings, his ab- 
sence on those occasions 
being due to illness, one 
attack of which he con- 
tracted in his attempt to 
swim from Newcastle to 
South Shields against a 
heavy wind, when he was 
fifty -three years of age. 
During one period of that 
time he held a record of 
over 3,000 consecutive 
hathes. His time for 
bathing from April 1st to 
October 3 1 st was 6.30 a. m., 
and from November 1st 
to March 31st seven 
o'clock, so that, more 
often than not, in the 
winter he was bathing in 
the dark. 

From a Photograph, 



From a Photo, by J. D*w *4 g * &mt> SonfrShitkl* . 

Original from 

, t, c v t \L " B wnyiridi iiuiii 


HE u Terrace/' consisting of 
eight #iunt houses, faced the 
sea, while the hack rooms 
commanded a view of the 
ancient little town some half- 
mile distant. The beach, a 
waste of shingle, was desolate and bare 
except for a ruined I Kit hing- machine and a 
few pieces of linen drying in the winter sun- 
shine. In the offing tiny steamers left a 
trail of smoke, while sailing craft, their canvas 
glistening in the sun, slowly melted from the 
sight On all these things the ** Terrace " 
turned a stolid eye, and, counting up its gains 
of the previous season, wondered whether 
it could hold on to the next. It was a 
discontented tl Terrace/' and had become 
prematurely soured by a Board which refused 
them a pier, a band-stand, and illuminated 

From the front windows of the third story 
of No. i Mrs* Cox, gazing out to sea, sighed 
softly. The season had been a bad one, and 
Mr. Cox had been even more troublesome 
than usual owing to tightness in the money 
market and the avowed preference of local 
publicans for cash transactions to assets in 
chalk and slate. In Mr. Cox's memory 
there had never been such a drought, and 
his crop of patience was nearly exhausted* 

Copyright i.u the United States of 

Digitized by CoOgTe 

He had in his earlier days attempted to do 
a little work , but his health had suffered so 
much that his wife had become alarmed for 
his safety. Work invariably brought on a 
cough, and as he came from a family whose 
lungs had formed the staple conversation of 
their lives, he had been compelled to abandon 
it, and at last it came to be understood that 
if he would only consent to amuse himself, 
and not get into trouble, nothing more would 
be expected of him. It was not much of 
a life for a man of spirit, and at times il 
became so unbearable that Mr Cox would 
disappear for days together in search of work, 
returning unsuccessful after many days with 
nerves shattered in ihe pursuit, 

Mrs. Cox's meditations were disturbed by 
a knock at the front door, and, the servants 
having been discharged for the season, she 
hurried downstairs to open it not without a 
hope of belated lodgers : invalids in search 
of an east wind. A stout, middle - aged 
woman in widow's weeds stood on the door- 

"Glad to see you, my dear," said the 
visitor, kissing her loudly. 

Mrs, Cox gave her a subdued caress in 
return T not from any lack of feeling, but 
because she did everything in a quiet and 
spiritless fashion, 

A - ri - 1 » w - w -J«ftlfmrlfrQm 




" I've got my Uncle Joseph from London 
staying with us," continued the visitor* follow- 
ing her into the hall, 4i so I just got into the 
train and brought him down for a blow at 
the sea.' 1 

A question on Mrs. Cox's lips died away 
as a very small man who had been hidden 
by his niece came into sight. 

" My Uncle Joseph," said Mrs, Berry ; 
"Mr, Joseph Piper," she added. 

Mr Piper shook hands, and after a per- 
formance on the door-mat^ protracted by 
reason of a festoon of hemp, followed his 
hostess into the faded drawing-room, 

"And Mr. Cox?" inquired Mrs. Berry, in 
a cold voice, 

Mrs, Cox shook her head. "He's been 
away this last three days/ 1 she said, (lushing 

"Looking for work?" suggested the 

Mrs, Cox nodded, and placing the tips of 
her fingers togetherjidgcted gently. 

"Well, I hope he 
finds it," said Mrs. 
Berry, with more 
venom than the re- 
mark seemed to 
require. "Why, 
where's your marble 
clock ? " 

Mrs. Cox coughed, 
"It's being mended," 
she said, confusedly. 

Mrs. Berry eyed her 
anxiously, " Don't 
mind him, my dear/' 
she said, with a jerk 
of her head in the 
direction of Mr. 
Piper, " he's nobody. 
Wouldn't you like to 
go out on the beach a 
little while, uncle?" 

"No," said Mr. 

u I suppose Mr* 
Cox took the clock for 
company/ 1 remarked 
Mrs. Berry, after a 
hostile stare at her 

Mrs. Cox sighed and shook her head 
was no use pretending with Mrs, Berry, 

"Hell pawn the clock and anything else 
he can lay his hands on, and when he's 
drunk it up come home to be made a fuss 
of," continued Mrs. Berry, heatedly; "that's 
you men." 

Her glance was so fiery that Mr, Joseph 
Piper was unable to allow the remark to pass 

" I never pawned a clock/' he said, 
stroking his little grey head. 

" That's a lot to boast of, isn't it ? " de- 
manded his niece ; " if I hadn't got anything 
better than that to boast of I wouldn't boast 
at all." 

Mr. Piper said that he was not boasting, 

"It'll go on like this, my dear, till you Ye 
ruined," said the sympathetic Mrs. Berry, 
turning to her friend again; " whatll you do 
then ? » 

" Yes, I know," said Mrs- Cox, " I've had 
a bad season, too, and I'm so anxious about 
him in spite of it all I can't sleep at nights 
for fearing that he's in some trouble* Fm 
sure I laid awake half last night crying. 3 * 

Mrs, Berry sniffed loudly, and, Mr. Piper 
making a remark in a low voice, turned on 
him with ferocity. 

Ll What did you say ? " she demanded. 



by Google 

"I said it does her credit," said Mr, Piper, 

"I might have known it was nonsense," 
retorted his niece, hotly* "Can't you get 
him to take the pledge, Mary ?" 

" I couldn't insult him like that," said Mrs. 
Cox, with a shiver; "you don't know his 
Original from 




pride. He never admits that he drinks ; he 
says that he only takes a little for his indiges- 
tion. He'd never forgive me. When he 
pawns the things he pretends that somebody 
has stolen them, and the way he goes on at 
me for my carelessness is alarming. He 
gets worked up to such a pitch that some- 
times I almost think he believes it himself. 7 ' 

" Rubbish," said Mrs. Berry, tartly, "you're 
too easy with him." 

Mrs. Cox sighed, and, leaving the room, 
returned m with a bottle of wine which was 
port to the look and red-currant to the taste, 
and a seed cake of formidable appearance. 
The visitors attacked these refreshments 
mildly, Mr. Piper sipping his wine with an 
obtrusive carefulness which his niece rightly 
regarded as a reflection upon her friend's 

" What Mr. Cox wants is a shock," she 
said ; " you've dropped some crumbs on the 
carpet, uncle." 

Mr. Piper apologized and said he had got 
his eye on them, and would pick them up 
when he had finished and pick up his niece's 
at the same time to prevent her stooping. 
Mrs. Berry, in an aside to Mrs. Cox, said that 
her Uncle Joseph's tongue had got itself dis- 
liked on both sides of the family. 

" And I'd give him one," said Mrs. Berry, 
returning again to the subject of Mr. Cox and 
shocks. " He has a gentleman's life of it 
here, and he would look rather silly if you 
were sold up and he had to do something for 
his living." 

"It's putting the things away that is so 
bad," said Mrs. Cox, shaking her head ; 
" that clock won't last him out, I know ; he'll 
come back and take some of the other things. 
Every spring I have to go through his pockets 
for the tickets and get the things out again, 
and I mustn't say a word for fear of hurting 
his feelings. If I do he goes off again." 

"If I were you," said Mrs. Berry, emphati- 
cally, "I'd get behind with the rent or 
something and have the brokers in. He'd 
look rather astonished if he came home and 
saw a broker's man sitting in a chair " 

" He'd look more astonished if he saw him 
sitting in a flower-pot," suggested the caustic 
Mr. Piper. 

" I couldn't do that," said Mrs. Cox. " I 
couldn't stand the disgrace, even though I 
knew I could pay him out. As it is, Cox is 
always setting his family above mine." 

Mrs. Berry, without ceasing to stare Mr. 
Piper out of countenance, shook her head, 
and, folding her arms, again stated her opinion 
that Mr. Cox wanted a shock, and expressed 

by t^ 


a great yearning to be the humble means of 
giving him one. 

" If you can't have the brokers in, get 
somebody to pretend to be one," she said, 
sharply ; " that would prevent him pawning 
any more things at any rate. Why, wouldn't 
he do ? " she added, nodding at her uncle. 

Anxiety on Mrs. Cox's face was exaggerated 
on that of Mr. Piper. 

" Let uncle pretend to be a broker's man 
in for the rent," continued the excitable lady, 
rapidly. " When Mr. Cox turns up after his 
spree, tell him what his doings have brought 
you to, and say you'll have to go to the work- 

" I look like a broker's man, don't I ? " 
said Mr. Piper, in a voice more than tinged 
with sarcasm. 

" Yes," said his niece, " that's what put it 
into my head." 

" It's very kind of you, dear, and very kind 
of Mr. Piper," said Mrs. Cox, " but I couldn't 
think of it, I really couldn't." 

"Uncle would be delighted," said Mrs. 
Berry, with a wilful blinking of plain facts. 
" He's got nothing better to do ; it's a nice 
house and good food, and he could sit at the 
open window and sniff at the sea all day 

Mr. Piper sniffed even as she spoke, but 
not at the sea. 

" And I'll come for hirn the day after to- 
morrow," said Mrs. Berry. 

It was the old story of the stronger will : 
Mrs. Cox rfter a feeble stand gave way 
altogether, and Mr. Piper's objections were 
demolished before he had given them full 
utterance. Mrs. Berry went off alone after 
dinner, secretly glad to have got rid of Mr. 
Piper, who was making a self-invited stay at 
her house of indefinite duration ; and Mr. 
Piper, in his new role of broker's man, 
essayed the part with as much help as a clay 
pipe and a pint of beer could afford him. 

That day and the following he spent amid 
the faded grandeurs of the drawing-room, 
gazing longingly at the wide expanse of beach 
and the tumbling sea beyond. The house 
was almost uncannily quiet, an occasional 
tinkle of metal or crash of china from the 
basement giving the only indication of the 
industrious Mrs. Cox ; but on the day after 
the quiet of the house was broken by the 
return of its master, whose annoyance, when 
he found the drawing-room clock stolen and 
a man in possession, was alarming in its 
vehemence. He lectured his wife severely 
on her mismanagement, and after some hesi- 
tation announced his intention of going 




through her books. Mrs. Cox gave them to 
him, and, armed with pen and ink and four 
square inches of pink blotting-paper, he per- 
formed feats of balancing which made him a 
very Blond in of finance, 

" 1 shall have to get something to do," he 
said, gloomily, laying down his pen, 

" Yes, dear," said his wife, 

Mr. Cox leaned back in his chair and, 
wiping his pen on the blotting-paper, gazed 
in a speculative fashion round the room. 
" Have you got any money ? ' ? he inquired. 

For reply his wife rummaged in her 
pocket, and after a lengthy search produced 
a bunch of keys, a thimble, a needle-case, 
two pocket handkerchiefs, and a halfpenny. 
She put this last on the table, and Mr. Cox, 
whose temper liad been mounting steadily, 
title w it to the other end of the room. 

" I can't help 

it," said Mrs, 
Cox, wiping her 
eyes, " I'm sure 
I've done all 1 
could to keep a 
home together. I 
can't even raise 
money on any- 
thing/ 1 

Mr. Cox, who 
had been glanc- 
ing round the 
room again, 
looked up 

" Why not?" 
he inquired* 

" The broker's 
man," said Mrs. 
Cox, nervously ; 
u he's made an 
inventory of 
everything and 
he holds us re- 

Mr, Cox leaned 
back, in his chair. 


" This is a pretty state of 
things, ' he blurted, wildly, " Here have I 
been walking my legs off looking for work, 
any work so long as it's honest labour, and 
I come back to find a broker's man sitting 
in my own house and drinking up my 

He rose and walked up and down the 
room, and Mrs. Cox, whose nerves were 
hardly equal to the occasion, slipped on her 
bonnet and announced her intention of 
trying to obtain a few necessaries on credit. 
Her husband waited in indignant silence 

Digitized by GoOglC 

until he heard the front-door close behind 
her, and then stole softly upstairs to have a 
look at the fell destroyer of his domestic 

Mr. Piper, who was already very tired of 
his imprisonment, looked up curiously as he 
heard the door pushed open, and discovered 
an elderly gen tie man with an appearance of 
great stateliness staring at him. In the 
ordinary way he was one of the meekest of 
men, but the insolence of this stare was 
outrageous, Mr. Piper, opening his mild blue 
eyes wide, stared back. Whereupon Mr* Cox, 
fumbling in his vest-pocket, found a pair of 
folders, and putting them astride his nose, 
gazed at the pseudo- broker's man with 
crushing effect. 

" What do you want here ? } ' he asked, at 
length. "Are you the father of one of the 

servants ? " 

"I'm the father 
of all the servants 
in the house," 
said Mr, Piper, 

u Don't answer 
me, sir," said 
Mr. Cox, with 
much pomposity; 
"youYe an eye- 
sore to an honest 
man, a vulture, a 

Mr. Piper pon- 

u How do you 
know T what's an 
eyesore to an 
honest man?' 1 
he asked, at 

Mr. Cox smiled 

"Where is 
your warrant or 
order, or what- 
ever you call it ? " he demanded. 

u I've shown it to Mrs, Cox," said Mr. Piper. 
*' Show it to me," said the other, 
" Fve complied with the law by showing it 
once," said Mr. Piper, bluffing, "and Pm not 
going to show it again." 

Mr. Cox stared at him disdainfully, 
beginning at his little sleek grey head and 
travelling slowly downwards to his untidy 
boots and then back again, He repeated 
this several times, until Mr Piper, unable to 
bear it patiently, began to eye him in the 

same fashion . . 

Original from 




" What are you looking at, vulture ? " 
demanded the incensed Mr. Cox. 

" Three spots o' grease on a dirty weskit," 
replied Mr. Piper, readily, "a pair o' bow 
legs in a pair of somebody else's trousers, 
and a shabby coat wore under the right arm, 
with carrying off," he paused a moment as 
though to make sure, " with carrying off of 
a drawing-room clock." 

He regretted this retort almost before he 
had finished it, and rose to his feet with a 
faint cry of alarm as the heated Mr. Cox 
first locked the door and put the key in his 
pocket, and then threw up the window. 

" Vulture ! " he cried, in a terrible voice. 

" Yes, sir," said the trembling Mr. Piper. 

Mr. Cox waved his hand towards the 

" Fly," he said, briefly. 

Mr. Piper tried to form his white lips into 
a smile, and his knees trembled beneath him. 

" Did you hear what I said ? " demanded 
Mr. Cox. "What are you waiting for? If 
you don't fly out of the window I'll throw 
you out." 

"Don't touch me," screamed Mr. Piper, 
retreating behind a table, " it's all a mistake. 
All a joke. I'm not a broker's man. Ha ! 

"Eh?" said the other; "not a broker's 
man ? What are you, then ? " 

In eager, trembling tones Mr. Piper told 
him, and, gathering confidence as he pro- 
ceeded, related the conversation which had 
led up to his imposture. Mr. Cox listened 
in a dazed fashion, and as he concluded 
threw himself into a chair, and gave way to a 
terrible outburst of grief. 

" The way I've worked for that woman," 
he said, brokenly, " to think it should come 
to this ! The deceit of the thing ; the 
wickedness of it. My heart is broken ; I 
shall never be the same man again— never ! " 

Mr. Piper made a sympathetic noise. 

" It's been very unpleasant for me," he 
said, " but my niece is so masterful." 

" I don't blame you," said Mr. Cox, 
kindly ; " shake hands." 

They shook hands solemnly, and Mr. 
Piper, muttering something about a draught, 
closed the window. 

" You might have been killed in trying to 
jump out of that window," said Mr. Cox ; 
"fancy the feelings of those two deceitful 
women, then." 

" Fancy my feelings ! " said Mr. Piper, with 
a shudder. " Playing with fire, that's what I 
call it. My niece is coming this afternoon ; 
it would serve her right if you gave her a 

Digitized by Google 

fright by telling her you had killed me. 
Perhaps it would be a lesson to her not to be 
so officious." 

" It would serve 'em both right," agreed 
Mr. Cox ; " only Mrs. Berry might send for 
the police." 

" I never thought of that," said Mr. Piper, 
fondling his chin. 

" I might frighten my wife," mused the 
amiable Mr. Cox; "it would be a lesson 
to her not to be deceitful again. And, 
by Jove, I'll get some money from her to 
escape with ; I know she's got some, and if 
she hasn't she will have in a day or two. 
There's a little pub at Newstead, eight miles 
from here, where we could be as happy as 
fighting-cocks with a fiver or two. And while 
we're there enjoying ourselves my wife'll be 
half out of her mind trying to account for 
your disappearance to Mrs. Berry." 

" It sounds all right," said Mr. Piper, 
cautiously, " but she won't believe you. You 
don't look wild enough to have killed 

"I'll look wild enough when the time 
comes," said the other, nodding. " You get 
on to the White Horse at Newstead and 
wait for me. I'll let you out at the back 
way. Come along." 

"But you said it was eight miles," said 
Mr. Piper. 

" Eight miles easy walking," rejoined Mr. 
Cox. " Or there's a train at three o'clock. 
There's a sign-post at the corner there, 
and if you don't hurry I shall be able to 
catch you up. Good-bye." 

He patted the hesitating Mr. Piper on the 
back, and letting him out through the 
garden, indicated the road. Then he re- 
turned to the drawing-room, and carefully 
rumpling his hair, tore his collar from the 
stud, overturned a couple of chairs and a 
small table, and sat down to wait as patiently 
as he could for the return of his wife. 

He waited about twenty minutes, and then 
he heard a key turn in the door below and 
his wife's footsteps slowly mounting the 
stairs. By the time she reached the drawing- 
room his tableau was complete, and she fell 
back with a faint shriek at the frenzied figure 
which met her eyes. 

" Hush," said the tragedian, putting his 
finger to his lip?. 

" Henry, what is it ? " cried Mrs. Cox. 
"What is the matter?" 

" The broker's man," said her husband, in 
a thrilling whisper. "We had words— he 
struck me. In a fit of fury I — I — choked 

Original from 




H Much ? " inquired the bewildered woman. 

" Much ? " repeated Mr. Cox, frantically. 
" I've killed him and hidden the body. Now 
I must escape and fly the country. " 

The bewilderment on Mrs. Cox's face in- 
creased ; she was trying to reconcile her 
husband's statement with a vision of a trim 
little figure which she had seen ten minutes 
before with its head 
tilted backwards study- 
ing the sign-post, and 
which she was now 
quite certain was Mr. 

u Are you sure he's 
dead ? " she inquired. 

11 Dead as a door- 
nail," replied Mr. Cox, 
promptly. "I'd no 
idea he was such a 
delicate little man. 
What am I to do? 
Every moment adds to 
my clanger. I must fly. 
How much money have 
you got ? " 

The question ex- 
plained everything. 
Mrs. Cox closed her 
lips with a snap and 
shook her head. 

"Don't play the 
fool," said her hus- 
band, wildly ; " my 
neck's in danger." 

"I haven't got any- 
thing," asseverated 
Mrs. Cox ; " it's no 

good looking like that, Henry. I can't make 

Mr. Cox's reply was interrupted by a loud 
knocking at the hall-door, which he was 
pleased to associate with the police. It gave 
him a fine opportunity for melodrama, in 
the midst of which his wife, rightly guessing 
that Mrs. Berry had returned according to 
arrangement, went to the door to admit her. 
The visitor was only busy two minutes on 
the door-mat, but in that time Mrs. Cox was 
able in low whispers to apprise her of the 
state of affairs. 

"That's my uncle all over," said Mrs. 
Berry, fiercely ; " that's just the mean trick I 
should have expected of him. You leave 
'em to me, my dear." 

She followed her friend into the drawing- 
room, and having shaken hands witk Mr. 
Cox, drew her handkerchief from her pocket 
and applied it to her eyes. 

"She's told me all about it," she said, 
nodding at Mrs. Cox, " and it's worse than 
you think, much worse. It isn't a broker's 
man — it's my poor uncle, Joseph Piper." 

" Your uncle / " repeated Mr. Cox, reeling 
back ; " the broker's man your uncle f " 

Mrs. Berry sniffed. " It was a little joke 
on our part," she admitted, sinking into a 


by LiOOgLC 

chair and holding her handkerchief to her 
face. " Poor uncle ; but I daresay he's 
happier where he is." 

Mr. Cox wiped his brow, and then, leaning 
his elbow on the mantelpiece, stared at her 
in well-simulated amazement. 

" See what your joking has led to," he said, 
at last. " I have got to be a wanderer over 
the face of the earth, all on account of your 

" It was an accident," murmured Mrs. 
Berry, " and nobody knows he was here, and 
I'm sure, poor dear, he hadn't got much to 
live for." 

" It's very kind of you to look at it in that 
way, Susan, I'm sure," said Mrs. Cox. 

" I was never one to make mischief," said 
Mrs. Berry. " It's no good crying over spilt 
milk. If uncle's killed he's killed, and there's 
an end of it But I don't think it's quite 
safe for Mr. Cox to stay here." 

Ml I I ■_• I 1 1 




"Just what I say," said that gentleman, 
eagerly ; " but I've got no money." 

" You get away," said Mrs. Berry, with a 
warning glance at her friend, and nodding to 
emphasize her wcrds; "leave us some address 
to write to, and we must try and scrape 
twenty or thirty pounds to send you." 

" Thirty ? " said Mr. Cox, hardly able to 
believe his ears. 

Mrs. Berry nodded. "You'll have to 
make that do to go on with," she said, 
pondering. " And as soon as you get it you 
had better get as far away as possible before 
poor uncle is discovered. Where are we to 
send the money ? " 

Mr. Cox affected to consider. 

"The White Horse, Newstead," he said, 
at length, in a whisper ; " better write it 

Mrs. Berry obeyed ; and, this business 
being completed, Mr. Cox, after trying in 
vain to obtain a shilling or two cash in hand, 
bade them a pathetic farewell and went off 
down the path, for some reason best known 
to himself, on tiptoe. 

For the first two days Messrs. Cox and 
Piper waited with exemplary patience for the 
remittance, the demands of the landlord, a 
man of coarse fibre, being met in the mean- 
time by the latter gentleman from his own 
slender resources. They were both reason- 
able men, and knew from experience the 
difficulty of raising money at short notice; 
but on the fourth day, their funds being 
nearly exhausted, an urgent telegram was 
dispatched to Mrs. Cox. 

Mr. Cox was alone when the reply came, 
and Mr. Piper, returning to the inn-parlour, 
was amazed and distressed at his friend's 
appearance. Twice he had to address him 
before he seemed to be aware of his 
presence, and then Mr. Cox, breathing hard 
and staring at him strangely, handed him the 

" Eh ? " said Mr. Piper, in amaze, as he 
read slowly : " No — need — send — money — 
Uncle — Joseph — has — come — back. — 
Berry." "What does it mean? Is she 

Mr. Cox shook his head, and, taking the 
paper from him, held it at arm's length and 
regarded it at an angle. 

" How can you be there when you're 
supposed to be dead ? " he said at length. 

"How can I be there when I'm here?" 
rejoined Mr. Piper, no less reasonably. . 

Both gentlemen lapsed into a wondering 
silence, devoted to the attempted solution of 

Digitized by G* 

their own riddles. Finally Mr. Cox, seized 
with a bright idea that the telegram had got 
altered in transmission, went off to the post- 
office and dispatched another, which went 
straight to the heart of things : — 

" Dorit — understand — is — Uncle — Joseph 
— alive 7" 

A reply was brought to the inn-parlour an 
hour later on. Mr. Cox, gave one 
glance at it, and then with a suffocating cry 
handed it to the other. Mr. Piper took it 
gingerly, and his eyebrows almost disappeared 
as he read : — 

" Yes — smoking — in — drawing-room " 

His first strong impression was that it was 
a case for the Psychical Research Society, 
but this romantic view faded in favour of a 
simple solution/propounded by Mr. Cox with 
much crispness, that Mrs. Berry was leaving 
the realms of fact for those of romance. 
His actual words were shorter, but the 
meaning is the same. 

" I'll go home and ask to see you," he 
said, fiercely ; "that'll bring things to a head, 
I should think." 

" And she'll say I've gone back to London, 
perhaps," said Mr. Piper, gifted with sudden 
clearness of vision. "You can't show her 
up unless you take me with you, and that'll 
show us up. That's her artfulness; that's 
Susan all over." 

" She's a wicked, untruthful woman," 
gasped Mr. Cox. 

" I never did like Susan," said Mr. Piper, 
with acerbity, " never." 

Mr. Cox said he could easily understand 
it, and then, as a forlorn hope, sat down and 
wrote a long letter to his wife, in which, 
after dwelling at great length on the lament- 
able circumstances surrounding the sudden 
demise of Mr. Piper, he bade her thank Mrs. 
Berry for her well-meant efforts to ease his 
mind, and asked for the immediate dispatch 
of the money promised. 

A reply came the following evening from 
Mrs. Berry herself. It was a long letter, and 
not only long, but badly written and crossed. 
It began with the weather, asked after Mr. 
Cox's health, and referred to the writer's; 
described with much minuteness a strange 
headache which had attacked Mrs. Cox, 
together with a long list of the remedies 
prescribed and the effects of each, and 
wound up in an out-of-the-way corner, in a 
vein of cheery optimism which reduced both 
readers to the verge of madness. 

" Dear Uncle Joseph has quite recovered, 
and, in spite of a little nervousness— he was 
always rather timid — at meeting you again, 

i i ■_• i ii 



2J 7 

has consented to go to the White Horse to 
satisfy you that he is alive. I daresay he 
will be with you as soon as this letter- 
perhaps help you to read it.' 1 

Mr. Cox laid the letter down with extreme 
care, and, couching gently, glanced in a 
sheepish fashion at the goggle-eyed Mr. 

For some time neither of them spoke, Mr. 
Cox was the first to break the silence and— 
when he had finished — Mr. Piper said 
" Hush." 

" Besides, it dues no good," he added. 

" It does tj/e good/' said Mr. Cox, re- 

Mr. Piper held tip his hand with a startled 

11 Bout— 'bout five minutes/' he stam- 

* l We were so glad dear uncle wasn't hurt 
much," continued Mrs. Berry, smiling, and 
shaking her head at Mr. Cox ; " but the idea 
of your burying him in the geranium-bed ; 
we haven't got him clean yet." 

Mr, Piper, giving utterance to uncouth 
noises, quitted the room hastily, but Mr. Cox 
sat still and stared at her dumbly. 

" Weren't you surprised to see him ? ' J 
inquired his tormentor. 

41 Not after your letter," said Mr, Cox, 
finding his voice at last, and speaking with an 
attempt at chilly dignity. " Nothing could 
surprise me much after that." 



gesture for silence. The words died away 
on his friends lips as a familiar voice was 
heard in the passage, and the next moment 
Mrs. Berry entered the room and stood 
regarding them. 

"I ran down by the same train to make 
sure you came, uncle," she remarked. " How 
long have you been here ? '' 

Mr. Piper moistened his lips and gazed 
wildly at Mr, Cox for guidance. 

Mrs. Berry smiled again. 

"Ah, I've got another little surprise for 
you," she said, briskly. " Mrs, Cox was so 
upset at the idea of being alone while you 
were a wanderer over the face of the earth, 
that she and I have gone into partnership. 
We have had a proper deed drawn up, so 
that now there are two of us to look after 
things, Eh? What did you say ? ?] 

"I was thinking," said Mr. Cox. 

Vol 4xi.-28 

by Google 

Original from 

The Breakdown Train. 

By E. S. Valentine, 





PON the great highways of 
transit in this kingdom, and 
indeed upon every important 
railway in the world, there 
runs from time to time a train 
which takes precedence of all 
other trains. Everything — even the Royal 
express— must give way to it, for without it, 
in the peculiar emergency by which it is 
called forth, all on the line would be chaos 
and confusion. It is called the Breakdown 
Train (or Wrecking Train), and it runs 
between it* own head-quarters and the scene 
of an accident on the line. It is a com- 
bination of travelling workshop, store, and 
magazine of tools, as well as a travelling 
ambulance capable of affording first aid 
to the injured. 

In this era of universal railway travelling 
a breakdown on a busy railway is little short 
of a public calamity, even though unaccom- 
panied by serious loss of life and property. 
To the breakdown train belongs the function 
of repairing the calamity; it speeds to the 
rescue ; every engine, every carriage, every 
truck, every item of rolling-stock is shunted 
to let it pass, because each minute that it is 
delayed adds to the twin streams of pent-up 
traffic which is disorganizing the railway. 

In order to gain a glimpse of the working 
of the breakdown train let us suppose that 
one dark, stormy night there fbsliL-s into a 

Digitized byd 1 

large [>assenger station such a message as 

''Serious accident at Stark Junction. 
Locomotive 45 and five carriages down the 
embankment. Numerous passengers/' 

Two copies of this telegram are instantly 
sent, one to the locomotive superintendent 
or his foreman in charge of the M locomotive 
shed," and the other to the " traffic inspector " 
of the district. To the locomotive depart- 
ment of every large station are attached a 
breakdown train and gang, which are main- 
tained in a constant state of efficiency. 
Provision is made for action at the briefest 
notice, day or night. A list of the names 
and addresses of the foreman in charge of 
the breakdown vajift and of the skilled men, 
twelve in all, who constitute the breakdown 
staff, hangs up, framed and glazed, on the 
wall of the office. If a larger force is 
thought necessary it is made up from the 
ordinary staff connected with the locomotive 

In a few minutes the men are summoned 
from their beds, and are seen hurrying to- 
wards the van, dressing as they run. The 
breakdown train is already prepared for the 
journey. Sometimes it consists of seven 
vehicles, but never under five, the fewer the 
better, so long as it is replete with equip- 
ments. I ti the former case the train is made 
up of two iooljyp^sfp^tjp riding-van, one 




Frtflii a] 



laden with wood "packing," the breakdown 
crane* and two ''runners" or waggons which 
are employed to protect each extremity of the 
crane, one supporting the "jib," while the 
other is burdened with the "balance-blocks/' 
And now to the rescue ! We are already 
at full speed down the line, and the 
riding- van, wherein the wreck men are 
congregated sipping coffee, presents an 
animated scene. In a corner sits a young 
surgeon drinking coffee with the rest, 
and discussing with the foreman the pro- 
bable cause of 
the accident, 
whose character 
can as yet only 
be approximated 
from the brief 
despatch in the 
foreman's hands. 
In the old days 
the breakdown 
gang had no 
riding -van ; they 
had to ride on 
the trucks or on 
the engine or 
hang on how and 
where they could. 
The present van 
ts capable of hold- 
ing forty men. 
One end is fitted 
with cupboards, 
which when 

opened disclose flags, fog signals, signal and 
roof lamps used for lighting and protecting 
the train, as well as train signal-lamps, ready 
trimmed for lightings and four train-lamps, 
A stove occupies the centre of the van, to 
which an oven is attached, so that, if 
necessary, the men may cook their food. 
" Box-seats if are constructed around the 
sides of the riding-van, which serve as 
receptacles for various tools, such as wood 
" scotches," small "packing" shovels, ham- 
mers, bars of many kinds, and a large variety 

FVrffM ff J 

THIi K[r>lNT,-V.AM— AM l1l,"Ln St K ■> !■ f n *?:. 





of what our mentor describes as " sets," 
This u set "plays a very important part in 
the labour of clearing the line or rescuing 
imprisoned victims of a railway disaster, 
It is used for culling shackles or holts, and 
is a piece of sharpened steel resembling the 
head of an axe without the handle, from one 
to three pounds in weight. A piece of hazel, 
commonly called a l * set-rod," is wrapped 
round it, and the two ends form the handle. 
The set is held on anything which it is 
required to cut, and with the blows of a heavy 
hammer in the hands of those accustomed 
to such work it will quickly sever any bolt 

and provisions, bread, butter, tea, coffee, 
sugar, and last, but not least, tobacco. This 
hasty inventory omits many articles of 
importance, but we must move rapidly on to 
the next van, merely noting the curious fact 
that the greater number of the tools which 
have handles are painted a bright vermilion, 
so as to be easily distinguishable in the dark 
or in the confusion which attends a wreck on 
the line. 

By the light of a powerful lantern we 
examine the tool-van, passing through, in order 
to do so, a small compartment at the end of 
the riding-van, which forms a great contrast 



I / '!"!«.;'.''i.; 'i 

or shackle. Shovels, hammers, chisels, bars, 
and other implements are also ready to hand 
in this van. One cupboard contains the hand- 
lamps needed by the official staff, each lamp 
having the name or the initials painted there- 
on. Still another cupboard is labelled Lt Ambu- 
lance." The foreman opens the doors and 
reveals two tourniquets, half-a-dozen com- 
pressor bandages, scissors, forceps, adhesive 
plaster, lint for dressing, splints for broken 
limbs, antiseptic fluids, sal volatile, needles,> basins, while an ambulance-stretcher 
is folded away in one of the lockers. 

Another locker contains the necessary food 

Digitized by GOOglC 

to the body of the vehicle. It is reserved 
for the directors or officials of the road who 
may wish to proceed to the scene of the 
breakdown, hut at present it is devoid of 
occupants, owing to the lateness, or rather 
earliness, of the hour. The breakdown train 
cannot stop even for a director, but officials 
have often been known to leap aboard at the 
last moment on the occasion of some import- 
ant mishap. 

The tool-van glitters and bristles like an 
armoury. The floor is divided into little 
streets and squares, as may he seen by the 
accompanying illustration, formed by rows of 




jacks, ramps, and pyramids of chains, each 
placed with due regard to neatness and to 
prevent confusion and intermingling. The 
upper portion of the sides of the van is 
looped around with strong cables of rope or 
chain for haulage purposes, and is also 
arranged and fastened with occasional lash- 
ings to be easily loosened ready for use. 

A couple of sets of strong ladders are 
lashed to the roof. These are fitted with 
socket ends, and when, in event of a col- 
lision, waggons are piled up to a height of 
twenty or thirty feet, they are of the utmost 
service in scaling the wreck. The lower 
sides of the van are devoted to an array of 
single and double hooks, and huge iron 
loops for the jacks. The remaining space in 
the van is filled up by bars, levers, and other 
appliances, all arranged in an orderly fashion. 
Order seems to be the guiding motto in the 
breakdown train. There are in this van no 
lockers, for the reason, as your guide informs 
you, miscellaneous articles get out of ken 
when hurriedly thrown in, and are afterwards 
urgently needed. At one end of the van 
there is an 8in. vice, secured to a bench, 
specially constructed, so as to be portable if 
required ; and a tool-rack, containing files, 
chisels, and hammers, every article being 
within easy reach. Before taking leave of this 
section of the breakdown train let us not fail 
to notice the hue of the paint on the inside 
of the van. It is a clear white, the object 
being to throw every article into greater relief, 
for every jack, every lever or wrench, is painted 
of a ruddy vermilion. The object is, of 
course, to indicate its locality when in a half- 
buried state. Otherwise after the confusion 
and strenuous toil of a breakdown, especially 
at night, a number of the tools would be lost 
or mislaid. 

The next vehicle carries the 15-ton steam 
crane with which, at some point or other, 
most railways in this country are now 
equipped, although the hand-crane is more 
generally employed. A properly-designed 
breakdown crane is the most suitable, and 
probably the most powerful, appliance known 
for clearing away obstacles w r ith dispatch. 
The crane may not be of more than six or 
eight tons' lifting capacity, but the class of 
lifting usually dealt with does not exceed 
this weight, 90 per cent, of the work on 
English railways being under five tons. The 
hand-cranes are simply constructed with 
single and double motions, jibs capable of 
elevation to a moderate extent, and with a 
radius of about 20ft. 

The many purposes to which they can be 

so readily applied render them, within their 
own limits, more popular than the larger 
cranes. The balance-box of the crane is 
movable, and when in use is heavily weighted 
with a number of blocks of cast-iron. In 
addition to this, when a heavy weight is 
being raised, the crane is secured to the per- 
manent way by means of four clips, which 
are attached to each corner of the crane and 
clip the head of the rails. The crane itself 
is commonly worked by five men. The 
frame of the crane is iron, and the waggon 
which supports it is also of iron, weighing 
altogether from fifteen to thirty tons. Next 
to the crane is another runner on which rests 
the jib of the crane. The latest form of the 
crane is a combination with the locomotive, 
such as is in use by the North London 

Having thus described, in a somewhat 
imperfect fashion, the breakdown train and 
its principal contents, let us hasten on to 
the scene of the disaster. The waving of 
red lanterns and the explosion of fog-signals 
apprise us that we are approaching the 
fatal spot. Scarcely has the riding-van suffi- 
ciently diminished its speed than, lanterns 
and torches in hand, the breakdown gang is 
swarming along the metals, the foreman at 
their head. This personage, who is also an 
official of the line, is a heavy-set, intelligent 
man of fifty. In railway circles he is credited 
with being a specialist in breakdowns, and to 
his ingenuity and skill are due many of the 
technical improvements which have in recent 
years marked this important branch of the 
service. Whether the accident be .a collision, 
a derailment, or due to damaged machinery, 
however dense the wreckage or appalling 
the results, he is said never to lose his head 
or fail to accurately gauge the disaster, and 
instantly sets to work to apply a remedy. 
" Nothing," he remarks, " is so requisite as 
a cool head." His first idea is to clear one 
road ; he attacks with discretion at one point 
to ease another. 

We will pass over the pitiful human details 
of the accident which has occurred. It will 
be enough to say that in the present instance 
a locomotive and five carriages have plunged 
headlong down a steep bank, leaving three 
other carriages derailed close to the main 
line. The blackness of the night, the howling 
of the tempest mingling with the groans of 
the wounded and dying, the shouts of the 
workmen, the dark forms rushing hither and 
thither, women wringing their hands in an 
agony of supplication for help to those who 
are unabli-'fllfll 'render any — this is but a 




rough picture familiar to the average break- 
down gang. With their advent come lights ; 
flaming, spluttering torches are set up on 
the summit of the debris. A number of 
the wreck men immediately attack the work 
of extricating the survivors from the wreck, 
while others bend their trained energies to 
the clearing of the line. The foreman makes 
room to get his crane, jacks, and ramps at 
work. In event of a collision he makes 
huge bonfires of the matchwood ; some of 

killing or maiming some of the breakdown 
staff, whose work, as it is, is often of a suffi- 
ciently dangerous character, u As an instance 
of this, some years ago, while one goods 
train was running over a junction, the driver 
of another goods train, approaching the same 
junction from the other line, ran past the 
distant and home signals set to protect the 
first train , cutting right through the latter, 
Waggons from both trains — overturned, up- 
turned, on their sides, mounted upon one 

F/:,tt\ a] 



| I'hoU^fftiijift. 

the crippled waggons he replaces on the 
line, bandaging them together to make them 
fit for travel Such vehicles as can no longer 
travel he pitches to one side to deal with them 
at a more convenient time. If the waggon 
has become partially embedded he raises it 
by means of the jack ; and if not too far 
distant from the rails replaces it by means 
of the ramp. In such manner does the 
master railway wreckman fight and bore his 
way through the outer mass of ruin until he 
reaches the heart of the difficulty, sparing 
neither himself nor his men until the line is 

The breakdown gang is under his sole 
charge, and he will brook interference from 
no one, and rightly so. With more than one 
person giving orders confusion becomes 
worse confounded, and grave risk is run of 
adding to the effects of the disaster by 

^ed by ^Ougle 

another— lay in a great heap, blocking all 
lines. As a preliminary step the foreman 
decided to pull the heap apart. While he 
was getting the engine in position and having 
his favourite hauling-chain affixed thereto he 
directed two of his gang to go in amongst 
the waggons and undo any couplings they 
could find. The men crawled in out of 
sight ; but no sooner was the chain fixed 
than someone {not the foreman, you may be 
sure) told the driver to go ahead. The men 
inside heard the order given, and shouted out 
in terror, t( Let us get out of this first." The 
order to the driver was, of course, promptly 
countermanded, or the two men would have 
stood little chance among the plunging 
waggons and the crashing timber when once 
the engine began to pull on the hauling- 

It is won4Mglnibfn©teerve the special 




faculties developed by the expert. At a 
single glance the expert in railway break- 
downs recognises precisely what tools or 
appliances will be required in the case of 
each defaulting vehicle* There were said to 
have been experts in the old coaching days, 
before the advent of railways, whom a " spill 
on the road " made masters of the situation. 
A certain coachman, in the early days of 
steam locomotion, is said to have thus drawn 
the line between coach and railway accidents, 
"It is this way, sir," said he. " If a coach 
goes over and spills you in the road, why — 
there you are! But if you goes and gets 
blown up by an engine — where are you ? " 
And occasionally there are accidents so 
disastrous in their results as almost to baffle 
the eye even of the expert, and make it 

immediately in front of the wheel of the 
waggon which it is intended to replace on 
the rails* Either two or four of these ramps 
can be used at the same time for a waggon, 
according as may best suit its position on the 
road. As soon as the weight of the carriage 
gets upon the lower end of the ramp it 
presses the teeth into the sleeper and so 
compels it to keep its position. If the 
waggon has overturned the " snatch-block " 
is the most useful appliance, A third imple- 
ment is the " clip/' which fits on the 
rail, The rail ? indeed, is the great fulcrum 
and base for the operations. The waggons 
and engine at the base of the embankment 
are pulled back to the line by means of two 
snatch- blocks, one secured to the waggon and 
the other fastened to the draw-bar of the 

\Frwn a] 


puzzling to know how to begin to extricate 
order out of chaos. 

In the present instance, however, after the 
work of rescuing life and limb from the 
carriages which have been precipitated down 
the embankment, petting out the engine 
fires, and removing the glass and splinters, 
for every window-pane has been broken, the 
duties of the wreck men are immediately con- 
cerned in replacing the three derailed vehicles 
on the line, A screw-jack is employed to 
lift up the end of each waggon separately, 
after which the principal implement is 
the ramp- The ramp is constructed to fit 
the rail at one end and the sleeper at the 
other. It has two spikes or claws at the end 
which is affixed to the sleeper, which are 


crane, which is firmly secured to the rails. 
The rope passing through both blocks draws 
the w T aggon within reach of the jib of the 
crane, which takes the waggon up bodily and 
places it on the rails. 

In all this work, varied and intricate, 
laborious and often exciting, each master 
wreck man has his favourite appliances, jacks, 
ha tiling-chains, ropes, etc., whose special 
virtues he extols, often at the expense of 
the apparatus in use on rival lines. But 
however it is done, the line, in nearly all 
wrecking cases, is cleared in what seems 
to an outsider an incredibly short space of 
time. The traffic is resumed ; day breaks 
upon a peaceful landscape* We revisit the 
scene of last night's disaster, but the rays of 




the morning sun reveal no indication of any- 
thing unusual having occurred. Of the wreck, 
ruin, and confusion not a trace now is to be 
seen, so thoroughly have the wreck men 
accomplished their task. The huge engines 
pitched over like child's toys, their plates rent 
and torn asunder, revealing the very bowels 
of each iron monster ; carriages reduced to 
flimsy matchwood, weakly strung upon a 
quivering metal harness ; twisted ironwork 
and bent axles — of all this and more, if there 
has been a collision of the " telescope " 
variety, there remains now only the recol- 

The valiant breakdown gang has gone home 
to bed, after a hard night's work. In winter 
each member of the gang dons a top-coat 
provided by the company, and in addition to 
41 what time they may make " a bonus of two 
shillings is given to each on every occasion 
he is called upon to perform "main line 
breakdown work," 

Some singular accidents occur from time 
to time, but railway hislory repeats itself, and 
each extraordinary mishap serves as a pre- 
cedent, and furnishes its own moral to the 
professional wreck man. For example, a few 
years ago at Kelthorpe sidings two engines 
collided, and became so involved and wedged 
together that it required the strength of two 
others of even greater strength and size to 
pull them apart. The 
Farlingham 'Funnel was 
once blocked up from 
rail to roof by a collision. 
While trying to find a 
path through the wreck- 
age the foreman and 
several of the breakdown 
gang were nearly choked 
with pepper. It appeared 
that this condiment had 
been spilt from the broken 

casks which held it, until it lay ankle deep 
on top of the dehri^ like snow crowning an 
Alpine summit, 

A curious accident, and one not easy to 
manage, happened two or three years ago 
right before the eyes, so to speak, of the 
breakdown gang. A large locomotive at 
St. Pancras suddenly took it into its head 
to plunge down a lift-way into an adjacent 
subterranean workshop. It was, in the 
strictest sense, a clean dive, and there the 
locomotive lay, literally wriggling on its buffer, 
until the breakdown gnng, with the aid of 
their steam cranes, hauled it out hind-fore- 

From America the most astonishing and 
appalling accidents are constantly reported. 
In that country of magnificent distances the 
wrecking train plays an even more important 
part than it does with us. But the work is 
the same ; and in their appliances and 
equipments they differ but little from us. 
And it is doubtful if they have on any of 
their railways a man of greater ability and 
experience than Mr. Weather burn, of the 
Midland Railway, to mention only one of 
the veterans of whom our railway system 
may well be proud* 

In conclusion it may be remarked that the 
crew of the wrecking train bear a close 
analogy to our firemen on land and the 
lifeboatmen of our coasts, 
It is, iii brief, the Rail- 
way SalvagO Corps ; upon 
its courage; industry, 
celerity, and judgment 
depend not only human 
life and property, but the 
free current of commerce 
and business communi- 
cation in which millions of 
^^^ money may he, and often 

are, closely involved. 

Dtl'AK VMfcNT tit-' TH>: MlDI-AXD PAM.WAV* 

>'. am a I'tuitn. by Ajtknr [\'f*h>n. 

by Google 

Original from 

at became *> 


EARS and years after the 
charming young Prince mar- 
ried Cinderella his father died, 
and he became King and she 
Queen, and the two reigned 
long and happily, her first 
sorrow coming upon her when he, too, died. 
Nothing could induce her to marry again, 
and she lived to be very, very old — so old 
that all who knew of her wonderful adven- 
ture with the little glass slipper had either 
become too old to remember it, or were no 
longer living. And then, at last, it came to 
be her turn to die. 

Something occurred at the moment of her 
death which spread alarm through the palace. 
Hovering about her bed, a dark and vaporous 
figure was seen. Those who should have 
watched by her side through the night fled 
from the room in terror, to gather together in 
a remote part of the building to talk of the 
phantom, as they conceived it to be, that was 
haunting the chamber of their departed 


From thk Kkench. 
Bv Charles Smith Cheltnam. 

What they had seen was, in truth, the 
shadowy form of Oriental la, a fairy, who had 
taken under her protection the Queen who 
was to succeed Cinderella, and to whom she 
purposed giving the little glass slipper which 
had brought so much good fortune and hap- 
piness to her predecessor. As soon as the 
affrighted servants were all out of the room 
she opened a splendid coffer that stood near 
the bed, and soon found what she was 
seeking— the beautiful little fairy slipper of 
glass which Cinderella had dropped from her 
foot when escaping from the ball at which 
the charming young Prince had fallen in love 
with her, and by the aid of which he was 
enabled to recover her and make her his 

But, by some unaccountable lapse of 
memory, the fairy Orientalla had forgotten 
that the Princess she wished to favour had 
feet far too large to be contained in 
Cinderella's tiny slipper, and she was 
extremely vexed with herself for her 
oversight. She determined, however, that 
the trouble she had taken should not be 
fruitless, and at once set off to scour the 
world in search of somebody, Princess or 
peasant, whom the slipper would fit. 

East, west, north, and south she journeyed 
during a whole year, exploring even China 
unsuccessfully, though there, as everybody 
knows, ladies' feet are made small, because 
a tiny foot is regarded as an essential 
to beauty. Original from 




At last she grew so tired of her vain search 
that she took her way back home, She was 
quite disheartened and felt almost inclined 
to destroy the glass slipper as no longer of 
any use ; in fact, she was only restrained from 
doing it by the reflection that such a pro- 
ceeding would have been nothing else than 
an admission of her weakness as a fairy, 

One day, as she was going to see the new 
Queen, whom, of course* she had no reason 
for neglecting t she noticed, on the side of a 
grassy hill t not very far from the palace, a 
small cottage, sheltered from the winter winds 
and rain by the wide-spreading boughs of 
some very aged oaks — the dwelling-place of 
a poor girl of fifteen, who had neither mother 
nor father and lived there quite alone. She 
was very pretty and modest, was this poor 
girl, and passed her time in spinning flax, 
which she cultivated and prepared with her 
own little brown hands— rising with the dawn 
and going to bed as soon as the evening 
star, after casting on her a friendly look, 
said "Good night" to her through her 
rose - garlanded casement. 

She associated 
very little with : iris 


of her own 
rarely quitting 
cottage — indeed, was 
hardly ever seen 
abroad, if it was not 
at the village foun- 
tain. It was not 
because she w + as 
ashamed to show 
her face that she led 
this retired life ; for 
not a girl in all the 
country round was 
prettier than she, 
with her eyes the 
colour of the su m mer 
sky, and her hair in 
which the sun 
seemed to have lost 
some of his golden 

As Orientalla 
approached the cot- 
tage she was seized 
with intense thirst, 
for the day was hot 
and the hill steep 
from w r hich she had 
descended. On the 
threshold of the 
little house she 
found its little mis- 


tress—" Susanne of the Poppy- fields/' as she 
had come to be called, because, in the season 
when the fields in front of her home were 
scarlet with the glowing hues of that gorgeous 
flower* she loved to be in the midst of them, 
clothed as it were in their splendour 

"Can you give me something to quench 
my thirst, my dear?" asked the fairy. 

" I have no water that is quite fresh, for 1 
have not yet been to fill my pails at the 
fountain, my good woman/ 1 replied Susanne ; 
"but if you will come with me into my little 
fruit-garden I will pluck for you the most 
beautiful peach that ever grew on an 

" Oh, yes> I will come with you," said the 
fairy, resting on her little guide's arm — for 
she had made herself to appear quite like a 
very old and infirm woman that day. ** Your 
fruit-garden is a very small one, my dear/' 
she added, on reaching it. 

" It's large enough for me, as there's 
nobody else here to eat the fmit that grows 
in -it," Susanne said, cheerfully, 

" But you have only one peach hanging on 
your tree ! " 

"To that you are 
quite welcome," re- 
plied Susanne, pluck- 
ing the juicy fruit 
and holding it to 
the fairy's mouth. 

Never did lips 
taste a more 
cious peach, 
fairy ate it 
herself to 

pay for it 
with more than its 
weight in gold ; but 
no thought of stay 
ing at the cottage 
to try on the glass 
slipper entered her 
mind until, with the 
passing of a liyht 
gust of wind, she 
suddenly caught 
sight of Susanne's 
foot — a foot of ideal 
grace— the foot of a 
peri— the foot of a 
fatry ; the foot of a 
second Cinderella ! 

Throwing herself 
on her knees on the 
grass, she produced 
the little glass slipper 
from her pocket with 





one hand and with the other placed the slip- 
per on Susan tie's tiny foot. The slipper fitted 
it as perfectly as if it had been made for it ! 

" My pretty maiden/ 1 she said, * A keep this 
little shoe, and every year, on the return of 
this day, if you put it on, thinking of me, 
every wish of yours shall be gratified all 
through that day/' 

Saying that, the fairy kissed her on the 
forehead and disappeared, leaving her in 
doubt as to whether all she had heard and 
seen was more than a dream. But when she 
looked down at her feet and saw on 
one of them the beautiful little slipper 
she ceased to doubt, and walked about 
her fruit-garden thinking — thinking of 
what she could desire to have. 

" I know, 17 she said to herself, at last. 
" I wish I had a pretty ribbon to tie up 
my hair," 

She had hardly done speaking ere a 
beautiful pop py-co loured ribbon fell 
upon her arm* Delighted, she hurried 
indoors and bound up her goldcn-hued 
hair with it ; but when she had done 
this, and saw the effect it produced, she 
said, sully : — 

" I look better with a rose from my 
garden or some poppies from the hill- 
side* I should have done more wisely 
to have wished for something more use- 
ful—a cow, for instance, to stand in 
my empty stable," 

Turning her eyes to the window as 
she spoke, what was her astonishment 
at seeing the most beautiful cow 
imaginable, with silky coat and great, 
soft velvet eyes, cropping the green 
sprays of the creepers that covered the 
front of her cottage ! She hastened to 
receive her guest- — the best cow in the 
world — and, talking kindly to it and 
caressing its shining neck, led it gently 
to its stall 

"But, dear me!" she meditated, 
u now that I have a cow, I ought to 
have a big field of clover for it to 
feed in." 

And the wished- for field of clover, all green 
and rose, lay stretched in the sunlight before 

"Oh, it's enchantment!" sheened, clapping 
her hands with delight. " How happy I shall 
be when, little by little, with the sale of the 
milk of my beautiful cow, I am able to buy 
myself a shelf-ful of pretty painted plates and 
dishes, to ornament my dresser, and some 
nice linen, smelling of lavender, to fill my 
wardrobe, and frocks of many colours to go 

to church in on Sundays and to dance in of 
an evening at fair-time. And when my back- 
yard is filled with fowls and ducks and 
pigeons I shall feel as proud — as much a 
Queen— as the farmer's wife of Bois-au-Loup ! 
And when my friend Jacques, the school- 
master's son, comes to see me in the midst of 
all this, shall 1 not be the happiest girl in the 
world ? " 

Wonder upon wonder! On going back 
into her cottage she found the shelves of her 
dresser laden with beautiful Delft- ware and 


dishes and plate of glittering pewter. Her 
wardrobe was filled with sweet-smelling linen 
and dresses of every sort for all times and 

While she was examining her treasures she 
was attracted by unusual sounds at the back 
of her house— to discover there a crowd of 
fowls of all kinds, clucking and quacking 
their astonishment at finding themselves 
so suddenly brought together ! She called 
them abotA hex with petting cries and 




scattered handfuls of barley amongst 

At the same moment her friend Jacques, 
the schoolmaster's son— who was making 
holiday — appeared, having come to enjoy a 
pleasant chat with her ; that being his idea 
of spending his holiday in the most agreeable 
way possible. He was a very sensible as 
well as a learned youth — and one of the best- 
hearted in the world, into the bargain ; but 
all his learning, added to all his other good 
qualities, did not prevent him from being 
dumfounded by the sight that met his eyes. 
Wholly bewildered and just a little alarmed, 
he hesitatingly asked her the meaning of the 
great change that had come to her. 

" All has come from the good fairy ! " she 
cried, falling on her knees in gratitude. 

And then she spent all the rest of that, to 
her, most precious day in relating to him the 
circumstances of the fairy's visit, and all that 
had come of it. 

11 Heavens ! " she cried, at last, on seeing 
the sun go down, " you have made me forget ! 
One year must pass now before I can get 
anything more I may wish to 
have ! " 

"Well," he said, after a 
moment's consideration, " I don't 
know what more you can want." 

On thinking over all that had 
come to her she clearly saw that 
she already had a hundred times 
more than she had ever, before 
that day, dreamed of possessing. 

" Nothing is worth having that 
does not bring us happiness we 
have not, or that does not add to happi- 
ness we already possess," said her friend 
Jacques, who was wise beyond his years. 
" Contentment is better worth having than 
millions," he added, " and he who wishes 
for nothing more than he has got is as rich 
as a King." 

The year passed delightfully for her, all 
her thoughts given to the smiling task of 
deserving the happiness promised by her 
friend Jacques. 

When the anniversary of the good fairy's 
eventful visit came round, as soon as it 
was dawn she earnestly prayed to Heaven 
to inspire her, so that she might not 
express any but good wishes. Jacques, 
who had read many, many books, had told 
her about wonderful countries that daring 
travellers had explored or discovered, and 
of amazing sights and adventures that had 
rewarded them. And sometimes, in the 
excitement which the recital of these 

things caused him, he had been prompted 
to exclaim : — 

" Ah ! travellers have great advantages 
over us home-stayers ! " 

" Yes ! " she cried, sharing his enthusiasm, 
" I should like to travel and see some of the 
wonderful sights about which you have told 
me — great cities, thronged with people, 
mountains so high that they touch the sky, 
forests filled with birds that flash in the air 
like flowers with wings ! " 

Hardly were the words out of her lips 
than she was suddenly carried away into 
space by a multitude of tiny-winged fairies 
and laughing elves, who promised her a 
thousand joys only known to travellers and 
never thought of by her. So sudden was 
her carrying off that she had not time to put 
on either her hat or cape. She even let her 
Cinderella slipper fall from her foot ; but her 
attendant elves picked it up and brought 
it with her, respectfully packed in a magnolia- 
blossom, which held it nicely. 

First of all she was taken to see all the 
chief cities of the world, where, naturally, 





everything appeared marvellous to her in- 
experienced eyes ; but she speedily grew 
oppressed — and just a little frightened, 
perhaps — by the hurry and noise with which 
the life of the crowding populations was 
carried on, so different from the peaceful 
methods of living with which only she had 
till then been acquainted. 

So she desired to be taken elsewhere ; 
and, in a breathing-space of time, her fairy 
attendants transported her to China, to 
India, to Africa, as she changed her wishes. 
But her impressions of these lands were 
not, upon the whole, delightful — the peoples 
she saw in them for the most part repelled 
and terrified her ; and, as the sun declined, 
she was overtaken by an unendurable dread 
of finding herself at night in some dark, 
fear-inspiring part of the world, and, with 
all her heart, wished herself safe back in 
her own secure cottage. In a moment 
she found herself there ! 

c< Ah ! " she said, " when this day which I 
have so stupidly wasted comes round again 
I shall know better than to wish to be taken 
so far from my pleasant little home." 

Jacques, as I have said, was wise beyond 
his years, but his experience of life did not go 
beyond that of the villagers amongst whom 
he had lived from the hour of his birth ; 
hence he was led, quite naturally, to accept 
the general belief that the expressions 
"Happy as a King," "Happy as a Queen," 
were perfectly correct ; and Susanne believed 
it as much as he. 

So, when the next day for wishing arrived 
the wish she formed was to be made a Queen, 
with Jacques to be with her as King, though 
she hardly expected it to be realized. 

Realized her wish was, however, and 
instantly she found herself with Jacques, 
both crowned monarchs, on a splendid 
double throne in the midst of a resplendent 
Court — crowned, not with fresh-gathered roses 

by K: 






or daisies, but with heavy diadems of gold 
and glittering jewels that weighed oppressively 
upon their brows. 

Susanne's first experience of Court life was 
the passing of two hours in being dressed by 
twenty ladies, who wrangled all the time over 
their rights to do this or that portion of 
the dressing, and all wanting to make out 
that she owed her beauty entirely to their 
taste and skill. Whether it was to make her 
look better, or to make her look less well, she 
could not discover — she was made to wear a 
trained dress that entirely hid her pretty 
feet and caused her infinite discomfort by 
squeezing her waist. Then her arms were so 
loaded with jewellery as to prevent her raising 
either of her hands to her head ; while she 
who was used only to smell the scents of 
the fields — of wild thyme, sweetbrier, or 
lavender — was so drenched with perfumes as 
to make her almost faint. 

When she asked to see her friend Jacques 
she was told that he was presiding at a 
council of Ministers, or giving audience to 
foreign Ambassadors, or otherwise engaged in 
State affairs. 

At length came the reception-hour. A 
crowd of her subjects of the highest rank, 
from all parts of the kingdom, were assem- 
bled to pay homage to her, and utterly 
bewildered her by their flattery — those 
who had nothing to do and nothing to 
say being the most wearisome : 
and to all she had to listen 
and smile graciously, for fear of 
giving them offence — making 
promises of advancement to 
some who had no 
need of any more 
than they already 
possessed, and doing 
nothing for others 
who needed all the 
assistance they could 

It was past six 
o'clock before 
Jacques could come 
to see her — by which 
time she had been 
thrice dressed and 
re-dressed; but, 
even then, he had 
barely time to kiss 
the tips of her fingers 
before he, too, was 
hurried away, to be 
got into another suit 
of clothes to dine in. 

At the gorgeous dinner-table there was a 
great crowd, but neither gaiety nor charm. 
Seated far apart, both Susanne and Jacques 
were obliged to say to their neighbours what 
they did not think, and listen to what they did 
not want to hear. It was a real punishment, 
and not the first or last they had to endure. 

After dinner there was an official reception, 
at which the chief talk referred to rumours of 
war and rebellion — terrifying to both Susanne 
and Jacques. What was worse was that the 
rumours were well-founded, and it was not 
long before Susanne learned that everybody 
in her kingdom was discontented — even the 
Queen. . 

"Ah," she sighed, as she lay down in a 
magnificent bed, raised upon a dais of gold 
and hung with velvet curtains lined with 
satin, " why cannot I go to rest on my rustic 
bed of sweet-smelling broom twigs ? " 




2 3 l 

But her sigh was uttered too late, and she 
could do nothing but resign herself to bear 
her troubles as well as she could during the 
year that was before her. 

A terrible year for her it proved to be, 
every day of it filled with mortifications and 
disappointments — the crown she was com- 
pelled to wear, a veritable crown of thorns ! 

She had to witness with terror three or four 
rebellions of a starving people. She was 
forced to sell her jewels to pay the cost of a 
foreign war. She trembled every hour for the 
life of Jacques ; for she had learned that, in 
a kingdom such as hers, there is always in 
the mind of the people an insane idea that 
when the King is assassinated or driven out 
of his country the people have nothing more 
to do than to cross their arms to earn their 

Poor Susanne had to the full realized the 
vanity of human wishes, and that being 
" happy as a King " was nothing but the idle 
notion of poor, ignorant people, who think 
that if they were only richer everything in the 
world would be delightful to them. As to 
her golden crown, it so fretted her forehead 
that she would joyfully have given twenty 
such, had she had them, for one made of 
roses out of her own little garden, or for a 
circlet of the wild poppies that made the 
fields so gay on which her cottage window 
looked out in the bright summer-time. 

So she counted every day — every day — 
till the happy one arrived when she could 
break away from the oppressive grandeur of 
her queenly state, by once more wishing for 
something she had not. At the first gleam 
of dawn she sprang from her great, unrestful 
bed, and raising her little glass slipper to 
her lips, kissed it with all her heart before 
putting it on her foot. And then she wished, 
with a longing more intense than she had 
ever felt before : — 

" Oh, that I were, once more, in my 
lovely cottage on the hill-side with my friend 
Jacques to come and talk with me as often 

as he is able — and my beautiful cow — and 
my yardful of pretty fowls and ducks and 
pigeons — my gay field of sweet - smelling 
clover — my flowers and my fruits— my vine 
and my bubbling spring ! — there only I wish 
to be a queen ! " 

In a moment her wish was realized, and 
she found herself in the midst of the only 
happiness which, she now knew, was worth 
having, her brow invisibly circled by the only 
diadem of abiding brightness in the world — 
contentment. Then Jacques, who had been 
transported home with her, said : — 

" What a fine school we've been in. Its 
teaching is a vast deal more instructive than 
any to be had at my father's, though his is 
the best in all the country. I had always 
been wanting to see the world, as it is called, 
and I've seen it. A lot of things I didn't 
know a year ago I now know better than I 
could have learned them from books — that 
grandeur is oftener pleasanter to see than to 
bear ; that the cottage in which one is happy 
is better than the palace in which one is 
miserable. So, I am sure, I can ask for no 
greater good fortune than to be permitted to 
live quietly here in my village with you, my 
beautiful Susanne." 

"Oh, how happy I am to see you so 
wise," she cried, throwing her arms about 
his neck. 

"I congratulate you, my dear children," 
said the fairy Orientalla, appearing to them 
at that moment. "You could not possibly 
have better used the power I gave you. 
Cinderella's slipper, for which you have now 
no further need, I take back for the use of 
others, who probably will not get so much 
good from it as you have derived." 

In all the country round there was not a 
soul who did not rejoice in the happiness of 
Susanne and Jacques when their wedding-day 
came ; telling plainly of the esteem in which 
they were held by all who knew them, 
including even the girl with the largest feet 
in the village. 

by Google 

Original from 

The Complete Art of Barrel-Rolling. 

By Alder Anderson. 

HERE was once a traveller, if 
a certain well-known history is 
to be credited, who entered in 
his journal the fact that the 
majority of the inhabitants 
had red hair, because the first 
person he met on entering the town had 
auburn locks. Reasoning from analogous 
premises, it is not impossible that more than 
one visitor to Paris last autumn may have 
carried away the impression that the art of 
trundling a barrel was held in higher esteem 
there than any other. If of a sour dis- 
position, and inclined to philosophize out of 
season, such a person would probably fortify 
his impression by sundry profound reflections 
on the egregious folly of a crowd that could 
find amusement in so ridiculous a spectacle, 
and would think how much cleverer the folk 
were in the particular little corner of the world 
he came from. Oh, those frivolous Parisians ! 
As a matter of fact, barrel-rolling has only 
just been granted the freedom of the cor- 
poration of French sportsmen, or, rather, has 
been admitted on probation. The recogni- 
tion of its merits it owes to so-called mere 
chance. It came about in this wise. 

The principal annexe of the Paris Exhibi- 
tion, at Vincennes, failed to attract the public 
that brings the golden manna to expectant 
showmen. In despair, and to avert black ruin, 
the exhibitors put their heads together and 
argued late and long. They must find some- 
thing to "draw." Necessity, the mother of 
Invention, was present, and thus did the 
sport of barrel-rolling see the light of day. 
It may be said at once that it gives every 
indication of growing up to be a healthy, 
vigorous man. 

To trundle an empty barrel, tipped at an 
angle, as shown in the illustration, may 
appear to you the simplest feat in the 
world until you try it. You then discover 
that in this, as in most other things, there 
are finesses you would never have suspected. 
Once started on its career — its mad career, 
to use an unhackneyed expression — by a 
vigorous hand, there is nothing like your 
barrel for giving a practical demonstration of 
the law of inertia, which says that a body in 
motion will move for ever unless checked. 
Mr. Pickwick's hat in a gale of wind was as 
nothing to it. Woe betide anything that 
gets in the way of the rolling barrel and 
rashly tries to check its movement. It leaps, 

it dances, it almost seems to fly — it frequently 
seems to be trying to roll the roller. If 
left to itself, however, entirely, it falls 
ignominiously on its side, and is thereupon 
at once disqualified. 

To adequately describe such a race, not 
only has the entire vocabulary of queer terms 
possessed by the sporting reporter to be 
drawn upon, but many new expressions 
must be coined to render the impressions 
experienced by the spectator, as man and 
barrel in unison come bounding down the 
straight together. 

After the race was over I engaged one of 
the champions in conversation, but he was 
flushed — with success doubtless— and the 
explanations he gave me were for the 
most part couched in language that was 
more forcible and picturesque than polished 
or precise. Thus much was clear, however. 
He looked upon that day's performances as 
likely to mark an epoch in history, and was 
convinced that the eyes of all lovers of sport 
in Europe were at that moment fixed on 
Vincennes. He showed me the peculiar 
turn of the wrist necessary, and if he had 
been able to employ English would doubtless 
have added that only a hand of steel in a 
velvet glove could keep a barrel in the path 
it should go. When I left him he shook me 
so vigorously by the hand that I distinctly 
felt the steel, though I cannot conscientiously 
say I detected the slightest trace of velvet on 
the palm that pressed mine. 

But barrel-rolling is not merely a sport ; it 
is learnt, in the first place, as a matter of 
business. A day or two after the race I set 
out on an expedition, for it well merits the 
name, to visit the barrel-rollers in their home. 
The haunts of the tourist have to be left far 
behind and the Paris of play exchanged for 
the Paris of work, honest toil that broadens 
the back and hardens the muscles. 

Not unnaturally the barrels of Paris group 
themselves round the terminus of the line 
of railway that leads to Bordeaux. On the 
quays down by the river-side they lie by the 
hundred, and barges are ceaselessly adding 
to their number, though the enormous ware- 
houses on the other side of the roadway seem 
to be audibly complaining that they are 
already as full as they can hold. Barrel- 
laden drays clatter noisily over the cobbles, 
one after the other. The whole neighbour- 
hood literally recks of barrels. If the poets 




frvttt a I 


be not rank impostors, here or nowhere 
Bacchus and his merry train should hold 
high revel. 

But these are not the barrels we saw 
capering at Vincenncs* These barrels are 
full, and no more staid object in creation is 
to be found than a full barrel. A barrel, 
paradoxical as it may seem, is really full of 
spirits only when it is empty. A little farther 
away from the river we shall come on the true 
racing barrel in endless %'ariety* Large barrels, 
medium barrels, and small barrels; new barrels 
and old barrels ; barrels thai are fat-paunehed, 
and barrels long and lean ; high ■ priced 
barrels, low priced barrels, and barrels that 
look as if they might be dear at any 
price. It would be difficult to meet more 
accommodating people than the owners. 

If you cannot afford, or do not want to 
purchase a barrel, you can hire it by the 
day, week, or month, or on the three years 1 
system. What, perhaps, will strike you as 
more wonderful than anything else is 
the fact that there are actually people here 
ready and eager to buy barrels from you. 
Last year, for instance, there was so much 
wine in the South of France that, for a time, 
it seemed there would not be barrels enough 
to contain it, and the price of hire went up 
from a farthing to a penny a day* Should 
you, however, possess a barrel and wish to 
receive money for it, you need not take so 
long a journey to effect your purpose. When 
barrels do not come to him, Mahomet, the 
buyer, goes to them. 

Like all the peripatetic professional men 

From a] 
Vol. xxi -30 

jitized by LnOOgTC 






JFrffm qj 



and dealers in odds and ends who perpetuate 

the customs of the past in Paris streets, the 

barrel-buyer has his special chanting cry. 

Sooner or later you are sure to hear his 

rather plaintive wail, modulated on two notes 

only, " Tmitittuix ; des /orm£tittx t des ton- 

neaux ! Marc hand de ttmneaux™ He is 

frequently a man of a certain commercial 

status, may own a horse and cart, has 

his name and address possibly printed 

in the Paris Directory, pays cash for 

his acquisitions, and is of a well-fed, sleek 

appearance that augurs well for 

the profit he makes on his dealings. 

As soon as you or your deputy have 

agreed with him on the price he 

whips the barrel up from the cellar 

and has it roped on to his cart in a 

trite. Upon his dexterity in effecting 

this operation he prides himself not 

a little, and it really is surprising to 

see the address with which he will 

guide a heavy cask through a crowd, 

now fast, now slow, now coming 

suddenly to a dead stop to avoid a 

catastrophe. These are the men with 

whom barrel- rolling is a matter of 

their daily occupation. 

" Can you tell me where I can find 
the champion of the world of barrel- 
rollers? 5 ' I asked, politely, entering a 
barrel maker's. 

" Never heard of hi in. No time 
to think of nonsense like that. We 

have only time to 
work here." 

Such, in slightly 
varying terms, was 
the answer I re- 
ceived in half a 
score of similar 
One stout lei low 
asked me to look 
at him and say 
whether I did not 
think he could mil 
a barrel as well as 
any man living if 
he chose to make a 
public exhibition 
of himself. There 
was a bitterness in 
his tone I was at a 
loss to account for 
at the moment, 

I had eh ore 
success with two 
men who stopped 
cart they were driving in order to 
rearrange its load of casks. " My friend," I 
said to one of them, with as much suavity as 
a person of British blood and breeding can 
honestly muster, *' I am looking for a needle 
in a haystack- in plain words, for one of the 
champion barrel-rollers. Can you tell me 
where to find him ? If so, I shall be 
eternally grateful." The man looked at his 
colleague and his colleague looked at me. 
11 Evidently an eccentric, harmless, necessary 
Aflglk&i* their eyes said as clearly as eyes 



4 *m 




can. u Why not humour him and earn his 

( * You have been hunting in the wrong 
places. Look among the chimurs who 
deal in old barrels, not among the men who 
make new ones," 

Then I understood the reason of my 
previous insuccess, I had inadvertently run 
into the lion's den. Every old barrel put 
into circulation again means a new barrel the 
less sold- New 
barrels and old 
barrels are mortal 

" Take the first 
turning on the 
right, the second 
on the left, the 
third on the right 
again, and then 
go down a pass- 
age you will see 
in front of you. 
It will take you 
right among the 

I warmly 
thanked the 
good Samaritan, 
eom pounded my 
eternal gratitude 
by a present 
modest payment 
in cash, and, by 
dint of much 
asking, eventually 
found myself in 
the promised 
land. But, alas ! 
the whole adult male population was absent, 
pursuing its daily avocations. There was a 
large crop of children that showed me the 
race of chinturs is not likely to die out ; but 
the children's guardians, the wives of chineurs 
to a woman , could give me but scant in- 
formation beyond each expressing the loyal 
conviction that her own particular " man ! ' 
was as good a barrel -roller as was to be found 
in the world. 

I wanted something more precise than this, 
and in my perplexity a man at last appeared, 

From a] 


a true ch incur every inch of him, I felt 
assured. Unfortunately he wanted to get in- 
formation from /w, and I could not persuade 
him that my visit had not something to 
do with a twenty- four hours' barrel race 
from Paris to Mel mi, rumour of which 
had agitated the whole district "Think, 
then,'* he said, with unnatural solemnity, 
u Paris to Melun ! Twelve leagues, twenty- 
four hours ! Something like a race, 

that ! What is 
the racing in the 
Exhibition to 
that? It is in 
the street, in the 
road, you can see 
what a man is 

As by a refrain, 
each phrase was 
punctuated by 
" Paris to Melun ! 
Twelve leagues, 
hours ! " 

" Tell me, my 
friend, what are 
the qualifications 
of a good barrel- 
roller? It takes 
long practice to 
become pro- 
ficient , no 

"Never be- 
come proficient if 
you have not got 
it in you, was 
the curt answer. 
"You mean that the good barrel roller, like 
the poet and the dramatist and other trans- 
cendent geniuses, is bom, not made?' 

" I say that he must have the vocation, 
Vmlk I " 

A dog-shearer by the Seine hank once gave 
me exactly the same answer to a similar 
question. It is clearly as hopeless for the 
ordinary mat] to dream of ever emulating a 
roller of barrels or a clipper of poodles as it is 
for him to write sonnets. 

Another career closed for the ambitious! 

by Google 

Original from 


[ Wt skall be gtad to receive Contribution* to this section, and to ay for such as are accepted. ] 

en ware baths at the place of manufacture, ready for 
dispatch. If there t>e truth in the saying that [ * clean- 
liness is next to godliness,*' then this Midland bath- 
factory may be said to contemplate the improvement 
of public morals. We are indebted to Mr + C* S. 
Sargisson, " Glen thorn," Strensham Road, Moseley, 
Birmingham, for this interesting contribution. 

Messrs* Edward Cook and Co., LtcL t the welb 
known soap specialists, send a photograph of one of 
their exhibits, which, contrary to all custom, took the 
shape of a house entirely made of soap. The main 
structure of the building is made of the firm's well- 
known "Mottled Soap, the fire stove of '* Primrose 
Soap," the very window-panes being composed of 
Transparent Glycerine Soap, The building, which is 




Mr, Colin M . 
Black, of Bank head, 
Balerno, Midlothian, 
writes ; ib I send you 
a small photograph 
I took of a North 
American Indian 
reading a copy of 
Tin; Strand Maga- 
zine while lunch was 
being prepared. I 
don't know whether 
it is any use as a 
* Curiosity/ the words 
of the magazine not 
l>eing properly legible* 
The photograph, 
which is genuine, 
however, was taken 
up the Winnipeg 
River, a considerable 
distance from book* 
stalls !" 

This is not a Turk- 
ish cemetery or a 
collection of sen try - 
boxes ; neither does it 

represent the seaside seats of a Conlinental watering- 
place, stored for winter, It is merely a stock of earth- 

26ft. long by 13ft. high, is a copy of King John's 
Palace at Old Ford, This historic building re- 
mained until 1867, 
when it was des- 
troyed by lire. Its 
replica in soap was 
exhibited in London 
at the Grocers' Exbi- 
bi 1 ion of 1900. When 
all the parts of this 
marvellous building 
had Ijecn carefully 
prepared and fitted at 
the factory it look 
fa il r l ee n me n fifty -6 ve 
hours to build the 
completed castle tn 




It is a far cry Jrom an East Indian village to the 
yard of a Birmingham dealer in old met id, and the 
iiattered pots of brass— crushed flat for easier stowage 
— now lying in bales or in confused heap*, as in the 
illustration, have travelled Jong over burning plain 
and wide mm to find a m range resting- place, before 
J>eing passed on to he re melted and re- wrought into 
a thousand different shapes for ten thousand different 
purposes. The il lustration shows a heap of Indian 
cooking-pots and other domestic utensils, made of 
brass of a poorer quality than il is possible to cast 
in this country j but it speaks of suffering inde- 
scribable and destitution in its profoundest tlegree. 
All over the famine -stricken portion of our East 
Indian dominion the starving and destitute villagers 
have been compelled to sell their meagre ponesaofki, 
even to their very cooking- pots, in order to buy 
such small quantities of rice as the price of their 
household men sib would fetch; and hundreds of 
tons of this brass- ware have found their way into 
the English old-metal market. Threepence a pound 
is the outside of what the original sellers would 

The al>yve photograph is that of a notice- 
board in the garden attached to "The 
Woodenbridge Hotel," Wood en bridge, Co. 
Wicklow, and the wording of same is de- 
cidedly unique. The inscription reads as 
follows : ** Indies and gentlemen will not, 
and others must not, pull the flowers in thus 
garden." Mr. Charles Wnrren Russell, of 
39, Mount joy Square, Dublin, kindly sends 
this interesting curiosity. 

** I send you a photograph of an apple 
tree, blown down in a pie of wind, which 
bloomed and bore fruit for three years, 
being only attached to the stem or trunk 
by a piece of bark. The tree was sulise- 
quently removed to make room/* Thus Mr. 
L, A. Simpson, of London Road, tiognor. 

obtain for their pots 
and other common 
metal-ware, including 
the ankle and wrist 
bangles which formed 
such poor ornamem 
as their women -kind 

could afford * Hence 
the photograph, which 
at first sight is neither 
picturesque nor other- 
wise interesting, must 
be recognised by the 
thoughtful and sym- 
pathetic observer as 
representing ont: of 
Ihe most pathetic 
sights in this country 
at the present time. 
To Mr. Darby Staf- 
ford, of "Citenlhorn," 
Strensham Road, 
Moseley, Birming- 
ham, we are indebted 
for this very 
interesting photo- 




The following is an ^s tract from a letter received from Corporal 
F. Uly, of the 2nd Seaforih Highlanders, and explains ihe 
remarkable photograph reproduced a hove : 1C As I was advancing 
with my company over some rocky ground 1 fell a sudden sharp 
pain in my stomach, as ifl had t>eet. struck with a hammer* For a 
moment t thought I was wounded t and said so to a comrade near 
me, I looked a L tout me, hut, could find nothing. \Ve lay down and 
the pain soon ceased, and in the excitement of the battle I soon 
forgot all a hmit it. Early next morning I was surprised lo dis- 
cover a small hole in the lower left-hand pocket of my jacket, and, 
upon looking further, was astonished to find my purse had a bullet 
slicking in it. I was surprised, I can tell you, and thankful 
too, for had my purse not lieen where it was, that Mauser 
would have let daylight into my stomach* and ihe medical 
officer says it would undoubtedly have proved fatal." The 
photograph submitted shows the purse and coins (Kruger 
money). The half -sovereign 
that was struck by the bullet 
is plainly distinguished at 
ihe lop of the purse, anil 
lienealh is the well ■ aimed 
Mauser bullet. The half- 
crown, two shilling- pieces, 
and ihe six|tencc were un- 
touched, but the edge of 
ihe two-shilling piece on the 
right - hand corner of ihe 
photograph is slightly let- 
tered. Wc congratulate 
Corporal Bly on his narrow 
escape, and thank Mr, 11+ J, 

Porter, of the Post Office, Bury SL 
Edmunds, for sending the photograph. 


M Inclosed is a photo, of something 
I took while out for a walk. It has so 
puzzled my friends that I thought I 
might send it lo you lor * Curiosities* 1 
When I saw it in the distance I could 
not make out what it was. It is really 
nothing more than a tree blown down 
by the wind, and is more than loft, 
high. The photo, shows the base of 
ihe trunk with only the roots exposed to 
view, the trunk itself lying hidden in a 

straight line directly behind." From the 
Rev. C+ W, Millard, Laurel Cottage, 

Mr. Byron Harmon, of 1,318 So. 1st 
Street, T&conm, Wash., U,S, A,, sends an 
amusing yet pathetic photograph of a 
dearly loved pet that has recently met with 
an untimely end through its unaccountable 
hatred of porcupines. Ii will l>e seen in the 
adjoining photograph that the dog's jaws 
ant] nose literally bristle with ihe quills of 
a porcupine he has just been fighting with, 
arid it is a remarkable fact 
that, though the animal had 
met with similar receptions 
on previous occasions, he was 
not in the least deterred Iroin 
fighting his dangerous ene- 
mies again* Not long ago, 
however, the quills thus ac- 
quired were >o numerous and 
dense that it was found im- 
possible to withdraw them, 
and the plucky fighter has 
since departed to a land 
v here quills and porcupines 
alike unknown. 



2 39 

The next photograph was taken inside the bee- 
house in our contributor's garden. The bees are on 
the window-pane. The bee A has over-eaten itself 
with honey ; the bees B and C have thrust their 
probosces, or raiher tongues, down A T s throat, and 
are sucking out honey ; O and E are looking on, A 

takes the operation very calmly, tt must be left to 
our readers to decide whether kindness or greedi- 
ness prompted this action on the part of the re- 
lieving bees. Naturalists will prolxibly in dine to 
the latter notion. We are indebted for this ex- 
tremely interesting photograph to the Rev, R. W* 
Ohlham, of Martin hoe Rectory, Barnstaple. 

the squadrons chosen for active service s and made the 
campaign in the officers* waggon. Afterwards she was 
taken to Natal, and eventually returned home safe uith 
the regiment in November, 1898. The photograph 
shows her wearing the D.S.O. and the Mashona medal, 
to which honours she is no doubt fully entitled. We 
are indebted for this photo- to Mr. Oliver Grey, 3, 
Tump Court, Temple, E.C. 

Air, J, K, Dawson, of 149, Machuii Bank Road, 
Sheffield, says: * ( I send you an original photo, of an 
obelisk of extncicd teeth* which I saw exhibited in a 
chemist *s window, and by whose permission was allowed 
to take a photo, of it. It is made up of 1^38 separate 
teeth which have all l*een extracted by the same hand, 
and on the shield the inscriptions are : "In Memory of 
Old Alters," u Wearied Grinders at Rest," "Not Lost, 
but Gone/ 1 " Left with Wood," " Anno Domini 1900," 
The pedestal is painted to imitate red granite. It 
stands 4>zft. in height. 

Mr. J. F. Baker, of 134, Hampton Road, Forest Gate, 
sends a pretty snapshot of dolphins at play. The sight is 
by no means a rare one to travellers on the ocean, hut it is not 
often that so excellent a snap-shot is obtained of the graceful 
creatures as they gambol in their native element. 

Most regiments have their pet animals. The 7th (Queen's 
Own) Elussars are the proud possessors of a fuie torloiseshell 
cat. It was during th ' rains of December, 1896, that Snow- 
ball strayed into the officers 1 mess near Jiuluwuyo. She h^d 
evidently belonged to some while man who had lieen killed 
by the natives or had fled at the coming of the enemy. In 
the following year, when the Hussars went to assist the 
U.S.A. Police against the Mashonas, Snowball accompanied 




These curious rocks farm part of the 
coast-line of Brittany, a few miles l>eyond 
SL Main, The carvings, which cover the 
face of the rocks for a space of about a 
hundred yards, are the work of a priest , 
who has operated upon his rugged material 
with brush and knife arid produced a result 
little short of marvellous. The snap-shot 
shows two of his most elaborate achieve- 
inents— a trio of figures representing Ad La 
Fiance et TAnge el I'Enncmi," and an 
aHar-shaped tumti upon which a monk Ills 
in state. An inscription above a small 
door let into the rocks solicits contribu- 
tions " for a good work," Miss H. M. 
Glover, of 31, York Street Chambers, 
Eayswatcr Square, VV., sends this photo- 

This photograph represents the curious 
effigy known sis the "'kern dolly/' which 
was once invariably conspicuous at Scot- 

tish harvest festival s> ant I is still to be seen where old 
Customs are valued, According to strict tradition, 
the "kern dolly" was made from the last handful of 
corn cut on the farm, which was reaped by the 
harvesters throwing their sickles at it ; the winner 
presented it lo one of his girl friends. The women 
then " dressed " itj spreading aid tvinc k^ap shown 

to represent a female figure — possibly the goddess 
Ceres if it is, as claimed, a survival of Pagan custom — 
decorating it with gay ribbons, lace, and any brilLiant 
mate Hah It figured thus at the harvest feast t or 
-*kern iJ supper, and was afterwards hung up in some 
house to be kepi until next harvest came round. This 
photo, was kindly supplied by Miss A. Swan, Market 

Square , Dura, N.R 

The next photo, is that of the grave of the Earl nf 
Warwick's horse, Black Saladin, which the Earl 
killed with his own hand during the Battle of Barnet, 
April [4, [471, so as to give his Ml* ■ wen courage to 
continue fighting* Lord Sython, describing the 
scene* says: "The Karl kissed the destrier on his 
trontah and Salad in, as if conscious of the coining 
blow, l>ent his proud head humbly and licked his 
lord's steel clad hand. And when, covering the 
charger's eyes with one hand, the Earl's dagger 
descended bright and rapid, a groan went through 
the ranks* Hut the effect was unspeakable ! The 
men knew that to them and them alone their lord 
intrusted his fortunes and hh life, and they were 
moved to more than mortal daring," This grave may 
be seen at any time in, the grounds of the Warwick 
Hotel, Fast Barnet Road, New Barnet, Herts, The 
photo, is sent hy Mr. \V. B, Finchelt, New Barnet, 


"an offkr of markiacf. 

PaUUd by Marcm Stone, R.A. 

Reproduced by permission of Messrs. Goupil & Co., 

25, Bedford Street, Strand. 

(""rw^nL'' Original from 


Painted by] 

"an offer of MARRiAGEOriginiFfreifl-**"*- 



The Strand Magazine. 

VoL xxi. 

MARCH, rgoi. 

No. [23. 

The Most Popular Pictures. 

By Rudolph de Cordova. 

HAT is ihc quality which gives 
a picture its popular value ? 
For anyone who can answer 
that question with absolute 
certainty there is a fortune 
waiting to be picked up, for 
though pictures increase yearly in number, 
those that acquire popularity form hut a 
small percentage of the number. The most 
popular artists 
are by no means 
sure of the effect 
their pictures 
will produce, 
and the most 
experie need 
make mistakes. 
The publishing 
of pictures is, 
indeed, quite a 
different thing 
from the pub- 
lishing of books, 
for, by reason 
of the difference 
in price, the 
appeal which 
pictures make 
is of necessity 
to a different 
public than that 
which b u y s 
books* For this 
reason it is im- 
possible to com- 
pare the success 
of a plate with 
the success of a 
novel. Owing 
to the enor- 
mous range of 
the subject, 

however, this article is by no means exhaus- 
tive, but if it finds favour with the readers of 
Tut; Strand I hope to return to the subject 
by the kindness of the publishers, to whom I 
desire to make public acknowledgment for the 
courtesy with which they have supplied me 
with the information contained in this article, 

VoL xxL— 31, 

f'nlMwl bj/\ " THE SOUL'S AWAKENING." [Jam* - ,-.i'n ', i; | 

By permission of Mews* Henry Graves & Co +> Lid,, owners r-f the Copyright. 

Though renowned for engravings of a 
military character which their house has 
published , notably subjects by the great 
French painters De Neuville and Detaille, 
Messrs, Goupil and Co. have had not a few 
successes with English pictures, among which 
may be mentioned "-The Sea Hath its 
Perils," after Mr + W, H. Margetson, the 
original canvas of which is now in one of the 

public galleries 
in Australia; 
"The Valley 
F arm" a 11 d 
"Corn Field," 
after Consta- 
ble ; "The Ita- 
lian Flower 
Girl," after Mr + 
Luke Fildes, to 
say nothing of 
the many repro- 
ductions of the 
pictures of Mr. 
Marcus Stone, 
several of which 
appeared in the 
Illustrated in- 
terview which 
was published 
with the popu- 
lar artist in The 
Strand Maga- 
zine in August, 
1899* To these 
must be added 
"Wild Flowers" 
and "Garden 
I lowers " and 
" A P r i r 
called "II y en 
a Toujours un 
Autre," and "An Offer of Marriage." It is not 
often that the work of an artist undergoes any 
modification after it has been engraved, and 
therefore it is worth noting that the first plate 
made of " An Offer of Marriage" represented 
the girl with^|tgjsq| digu^cast that only the 

lids is^Mvofita^' howuver ' 



Mr. Stone changed this, and the heroine \yas 
represented looking straight in front of her, 
as is shown in the frontispiece to this article. 

Of the many plates of popular pictures 
published by Messrs. Graves, Landseer's 
t( Monarch of the Glen " undoubtedly takes 
the first place by reason of the number of 
impressions which have been sold, but it has 
been closely followed by the entirely different 
"Soul's Awakening/' by James Sant, R.A., 
to which Samuel Cousins's engraving of the 
same artist's "Infant Samuel'* runs an ex- 
cellent third. 

The popularity of Landseer with his own 
generation ajid with ours has been little short 
of phenomenal. The great animal painter 

mony of woman's value in art has hitherto 
received little or no attention in the frequent 
comparisons of the works of men and women. 

It was a real incident which furnished 
Mr. George A. Holmes with the subject of 
« Can't You Talk?" He heard a little child 
ask a big dog that very question one day 
and determined to reproduce the scene. So 
"taking" was it that the picture was actually 
sold for a large sum at the private view of 
the Academy where it was first exhibited. 
So great was the run on the reproductions 
that frame - makers were kept constantly 
at work night and day in order to endeavour 
to keep pace with the demand* Even the 
dog which was used for the model acquired 
a value in the eyes of the publisher beyond 





I'n int«l by] * * CA N ' T Vu U TA LK 1? ' " (Cu l*V U J G H T. ) I ft ^ ■ llviittttt fLH-fi* 

By IHrrmiaKion of Mcs^ B. Brookes & Son*, irj, Great Portland Street, London, W,, the publishers af the large engraving. 

derived a fortune from his publishers, for 
Messrs, Graves paid him no less than 
^£ 50,000 altogether for the copyright of his 
pictures, One day some ten or twelve years 
ago several Landseers were put up for auction 
at Christie's, and on the catalogue were some 
examples of Rosa Bonheur. The prices 
fetched by the canvases of the great French- 
woman actually overtopped those of the 
English painter, though this striking tesu- 

its worth, and he actually offered the owner 
^£50 for it, but the sum was refused. The 
picture is one of those with a legal history, 
for the Law Courts have, on more than one 
occasion, had to decide questions involving 
the infringement of the copyright of what 
has been a most valuable property. The 
prints themselves have increased enormously 
in price, for r j^ij^ a yfpj ir |png ago an artist's 

proof L ^,-^fiV^CHIGAN 



/M tit J/4 ftp] 


Copyright, by pcrmi^ion of the Proprietors of the Dor£ Gallery. 

\Uu*tmDart r 

Conspicuous in the history of popular 
reproductions — the more remarkable as 
purely religious subjects rarely acquire a 
widespread vogue — is that of Gustave Dore's 

"Christ Leaving the Praetorium," which forms 
one of the series of eighteen plates now 
being issued by Messrs. George Newnes, 
Limited, on the instalment system* 

Painted bj/\ 

Ltiwkn Dori. 

Copyright, by p«r minion of the Proprie: 


; 4 6 


It was tl Christ Leaving the Pr&torium " 
which gave Dore the supreme importance he 
enjoyed as the religious painter of his day, 
and the popularity of his picture is attested 
by the way in which the new issue of the 
plates is being ordered, not only in the 
United Kingdom, but also by the receipt of 
orders from the Continent and the more 
distant countries of the world* 

The original picture has a unique history, 
for it is probably the only one in the world 
which has been buried* This occurred at 
the time of the Franco-German War, when 
Do re had to give up his work in order to 
take his part in the defence of his country. 
The great canvas, measuring 30ft* by 20ft., 
was taken down from the easel, rolled up 
and put into a great tin case which had been 
made for it, and was then buried deep in the 
earth that no stray shot or shell might injure 
it. When peace was restored iu\6 the 
painter could go back to his beloved occupa- 
tion the grave was opened and the canvas set 
up again in its place, to be worked on until 
the spring of 1872. Then Dure threw open 
the doors of his studio, and Paris crowded 
to look at this effort of his genius, of which, 
the Morning Post said it is (t doubtless the 
finest pictorial illustration of" the ineffable 
tragedy of the Redemption that art has pro- 
duced in modern times/ 5 

Great though the success of the " Prae- 

torium ? * has been, it has not by any means 
overshadowed that of the other plates, notably 
that of "The Vale of Tears, 75 which runs it 
close in popularity. This picture, painted 
while his heart was aching at the death of his 
mother, to whom he was devotedly attached, 
has in it the personal note which gives 
the vital reality and the compelling appeal 
to all art, the artist seeking solace for his 
own grief as one among the figures which 
crowd the canvas. The popularity of " The 
Vale of Tears" compared with that of the 
" Prsctorium " is also interesting, because 
as the one was the first, so the other was the 
last, of Dore's completed works, his il swan 
song" as he called it, but its vogue is closely 
followed by many of the others, like the 
"Christian Martyrs." 

To the two pictures published by 
Messrs. S. Hildcsheimcr and Co., Limited, 
which we reproduce, "Scotland for Ever," 
by Lady Butler, and "When the Heart is 
Young," by Miss Maude Goodman, must be 
added a third, the well-known " Devotion," 
which at the time when chromolithographs 
were so much in vogue had an enormous 
circulation in that form of reproduction 
alone. "Scotland for Ever" is regarded as 
a picture whose engraving furnishes a regular 
income, for it is one of the most popular of 
Lady Butler's many popular war pictures. 

I'ainUd by] 


r\AWr UIh: ni - AiiT [s vouwg/" Original from ijfw* ,»/«>«£$ c^wia*. 

By p*rrais*ian of Messrs. S. HiW«htim« & Co., Udj|!qf™rakY^e|eop|[rphlJ^- i tl 



The copyright 
alone cost 
^3,ooo T so 
that it has had 
to be p u h - 
lished in very 
large numbers 
to get back 
the first cost, 
which did not 
include the 
picture, as it 
had been pro- 
mised to the 
of Leeds. It 
represents the 
charge of the 
Scots Greys at 
under the 
command of 
Captain Bar- 
ward^ whose 
figure is the 
chief one in 
the picture. 
He is repre- 
sented as 
"Charge," to 
which the men 
answer, "Scot- 
land for Ever," 
the war-cry of 
the regiment, 
as it hurled its 
weight against 
the enemy. 

The house 
of Messrs. h. 
H. Leffevre 
and Son is 
noted through- 
out the world 
for its associa- 
tion with the 
r product i cms 
of the famous 
pictures of 
Rosa Bonheur 
and Mr. Hoi- 
man Hunt, as 
well as of Sir 
I ^awrence Al- 
ma - Tad e ma, 
K,A, Of the 



thirty - six successful engravings after Rosa 
Bonheur it is by no means improbable that 
"The Horse Fair," which dates back to 1854, 
has had the widest sale. When the history 
of the enormous increase in value of pictures 
conies to be written a place will assuredly be 
found for this. When it was painted the 
artist offered it to the French Government for 
the modest sum of ^400. The Government 
instead of jumping at the chance, delicately 
refused to accept the offer, and " The Horse 
Fair M was sent to the exhibition at the 

original paintings of Rosa Bonheur have all, 
it is interesting to note, realized very high 
prices, and especially the series of Scotch 
pictures, which she painted during the course 
of her two visits to England and Scotland. 
"A Scotch Raid " sold in 1887 for ^4,395 i 
"Denizens of the Highlands," in 1887, 
brought ^5,827 10s, ; while u Changing 
Pasture," in 1892, fetched ,£3,150; and for 
the head of the lion, known as "The 
Old Monarch," Mr, Vanderbilt willingly 
paid 2,000 guineas. 

Painted by\ 

By permission of Meiwi. L, H. Lcffcvre 

Salon. There the critics soon discerned its 
merits, and Mr. (iambart, the predecessor of 
Messrs, Lefevre, bought it, gladly paying 
exactly double what the French Government 
had refused to give. It was exhibited in Pall 
Mall in 1855, and after creating no little excite- 
ment it was put into the hands of an engraver, 
who took two years to make the plate. The 
picture itself was then sent to New York, as 
it had been sold to an individual, who, 
however, omitted to pay for it Eventually 
it was owned by the late Mr + A. T + Stewart, 
at that time the proprietor of one of the 
great emporiums of New York, and one of 
its most noted art patrons. In his collec- 
tion it remained, and when at his death the 
canvas was put up to auction it was bought 
by Mr. W. K. Vanderbilt for no less a sum 
than ^i 0,000, and was by him presented to 
the National Museum of New York. 

There is, as most people are aware, another 
" Horse Fair " in the National Gallery. This 
is a second picture which was painted by 
Rosa Bonheur for Mr. Jacob Bell and was 
by him given to the National GalLry. The 

E KAIR." [Rom BonJurtir. 

& Sen:, proprietors of the Copyright. 

Of the Holman Hunt pictures, "The 
Light of the World " has probably been 
reproduced more frequently than any of the 
others, and it would be hard to say what its 
circulation has been in the various forms in 
which it was issued* 

Sir L, Alma-Tadema's connection with the 
house dates back thirty years and, there- 
fore, to the period when he painted "The 
Vintage/' all the plates of which have lony 
since been sold out. It was "The Roman 
Emperor," his first important picture ex- 
hibited at the Royal Academy in April, 1871, 
which made his name, and it was etched by 
Paul Rajon, the greatest man of his day* 
With its usual pertinacity fur acquiring yreat 
works of modern masters America secured 
this, so that those who are not content with 
an engraving of it, but would feast their eyes 
on the picture in its original cover, must 
travel to Baltimore in order to gratify their 

it is q u fj t r jg^ , |^Kte eher an y P late has » 

in,l WlsIFbH.te;r v ^ uc,han 



that of " His Majesty the Baby tJ ; the last 
of the series of which " Bobs and the Baby " 
bids fair to rival its popularity, not only on 
account of the interest attaching to the 
Commander-in-Chief, but also because it is 
the representation of an incident or real life 
which occurred in Johannesburg, The series, 
which also includes * £ The Queen J s Birthday/ 7 
" A Regal Gift," and 
" The Kings Court- 
ship," is published by 
Messrs. Cadbury- 
jones and Co, T 
Limited, after pic- 
tures by Mr. Arthur 
I ) r li m m o n d . His 
success has been the 
more conspicuous by 
reason of the fact that 
painting with him is 
more a pastime than 
a profession, as he is 
the head of the well- 
known engineering 
firm of Drummond 
Brothers, whose in- 
terests are world-wide. 
The sentiment which 
governs the whole of 
these exquisite pic- 
tures of child-life is 
that " Baby is the 
king of the house- 
hold " — a fact no one 
who lives in a house 
graced by the pres- 
ence of a child will 
question, unless it be 
to suggest that for 
"King" the title of 
"Emperor" or 
u Autocrat n should 
be substituted. 

The scene icpre- 
sented in '* His 
Majesty the Baby" is 
the corner of Picca- 
dilly where Old Bond 
Street runs into it, 
and it is a faithful 
presentation of the spot. In order to make 
his sketches Mr. Drummond used to dress 
as little conspicuously as possible, and 
the rough garments he wore made some 
people believe that he was an Anarchist who 
had ulterior objects of a violent nature in the 
use for which he designed the sketches he 
was doing* His artistic eye observed one fact 
which will probably be new to most people, 

VoJ. xxL—&2. 

Painted bv) ** the i.igjit of the world*" Ufolnwn ffwaL 

By permission of Mcs-srs. LH- Lefevre A Son, proprietors 

of the Copyright. 

though they have seen it every day of their 
lives. It is that, whatever may be the 
colour of the omnibus, its wheels are 
always yellow. When " The Baby " was first 
issued Messrs, Cadbury-Jones believed that 
the sale would be limited to London by 
reason of the peculiarly local nature of the 
scene. They have found, however, that, 

babies being the most 
popular institution in 
the world, the senti- 
ment of the engraving 
has appealed far be- 
yond the radius of the 
Metropolis, for the 
plate has been ordered 
in large numbers not 
only in the provinces, 
but by every country 
in Europe, by the 
United States and 
Canada, and by that 
Greater Britain which 
lies beyond the seas. 

"The First Easter 
Dawn," which has 
been one of Mr, 
Arthur Lucas's popu- 
lar successes, has a 
singularly curious 
history. It was sent 
by the painter for six 
years running to the 
Academy before it 
was hung. Even then 
it only found a place 
on the fringe, for it 
achieved the doubtful 
distinction of being 
44 skied." At the 
close or the exhibition 
Mr Lucas asked the 
painter to send it to 
him, as he would like 
to consider it at his 
leisure. IthadaGreek 
title when exhibited* 
and therefore when, in 
due course, Mr. Lucas 
had evolved the present name, he asked the 
painter his price for the picture and copy- 
right, subject to the rechnstening of the 
picture. Having purchased it, he then had it 
reproduced, with the result that it has been 
selling largely from that time to this, and 
has been legitimately published m five 
distinct editions, besides having been 
extensively pfH4Q a tif ri fH« United States. 




l v aiHted by\ 

' HIS JHAJbal V J HK HAttV. 

Hy permission of Messrs. CadburyJones+ Ltd.. owners of iht Copyright. 

x-itVi-nr i>PN-»i"J^1li, 

With regard to "The Drums of the Fore 
and Aft,' 1 winch illustrates Kipling's immortal 
story of Lew and Jakin, Mr, Lucas has an 
interesting story to tell. Walking through 
the galleries at Burlington House at the 
private view a military friend came up and 
took him by t lit arm, saying, "Come along 
with me ; there is one picture which I want to 
show you ; and you must publish." Mr. 
Lucas looked up and smiled. " I think I 
know that pic- 
ture/' he replied : 
"Matthew Hale's 
* Drums of the 
Fore and Aft/" 

"That's the 
very one," replied 
the other, " How 
did you know?'* 

" Because it is 
one of the clever- 
est things of its 
kind in the whole 
show," said the 
publisher, "and I 
spotted it on my 
first hurried look 

M r . I, u en s 
bought the copy- 
right and had the 
plate published. 

Then he sent a prospectus to every mess in 
the British Army— officers' and sergeants* — 
and, incredible as it may seem, not a single 
order was received for it. When, however, 
the picture came before the notice oF the 
public it quickly made up for the Army's 
indifference by the avidity with which it 
ordered the prints. 

Mr. Lucas has also produced many of Mr, 
Marcus Stone's most successful pictures, 

PaMedbu] "the drums of T1l 0TTCritT~8t' rTCrffl [Matthew UaU. 

by permission uf Mr« Arthur Lu^^.arUpuLILihtr.iiiul pwnecpf 5 4^e.Cci^>Ti£hi. 



whose popularity is in part accounted for by 
the completeness of the story told in the 
composition, a factor on which Mr, Stone 
lays great stress, as readers of The Strand 
Interview already referred to will recall 

Among the great successes published by 
Mr, Thomas McLean, of the Hay market, a 
foremost place belongs to Sir Edwin Land- 
seer's "Dignity and Impudence." This was 
one of the most successful plates ever known, 
yet the price asked for the copyright by the 
painter was only £20, Mr McLean, how- 
ever, sent a cheque for ^25. So struck was 
Sir Edwin by this that he actually wrote a 
letter of four 
pages in order to 
express his grati- 
tude for the liber- 
ality with which 
the publishers 
treated him. 
Soon after this 
Sir Edwin placed 
his affairs in the 
hands of the late 
Mr, Jacob Bell, 
of Oxford Street, 
who, later on, 
bequeathed his 
art collection to 
the nation, 
When the "Stag 
at Bay ? ' was 
painted Mr. 
McLean was 
anxious to get 
the copyright of 
it, and his appli- 
cation had, there- 
fore, to go to Mr. 
BelL Instead of 
paying j£*5 this 
time, however, 
Mr. Bell, who 
was a decidedly 
better business 
man than Sir Edwin; demanded 800 guineas 
for the privilege — and he got it. Mr. McLean 
had, however, no reason to regret the bargain. 

Since the early days of " Dignity and Im- 
pudence " the artist's proof* have appreciated 
remarkably in value. They were originally 
published at five guineas, and Mr, McLean 
took one for his own house. A friend 
pitying a visit one day saw the engraving, 
admired it, and expressed a desire to have it, 
offering ten guineas for it, Mr, McLean 

Digitized by G* 

fltftf] lJ niG*ITY AM? iMruuttNCE." I Mr A* LnmttM- 

By permission of Mf T Thomas McLean, owner nf the Copyright 

sold it, and some time after he actually 
bought back that same proof for ^75 ! 

As a series, the reproductions of Sir 
Joshua Reynolds's pictures have had an 
undoubted vogue. Most of them were the 
work of Samuel Cousins, R.A., who charged 
a thousand guineas for making a plate, while 
an ordinary engraver would have worked for 
a hundred guineas. " Don't you think it is 
a great deal?" Mr. McLean asked Mr. 
Cousins one day when they were discussing 
the terms of a proposed plate. " How would 
you like to have your hand on a piece of cold 
steel all the winter? " complained the artist in 
reply, ignoring the direct answer. That settled 

the matter, and 
the artist got his 
usual fee, 

Not less suc- 
cessful has been 
"The Mazarin 
Library," after 
the well-known 
painting by Fur- 
tuny, The ori- 
ginal work sold 
for ^60 o, and 
some time ago 
the purchaser 
told Mr, McLean 
that he had been 
offered and had 
refused a cheque 
for 8,000 guineas 
for it, (i The 
Young Dau- 
phin," " Play- 
mates/ 1 " When 
the World was 
Young," "The 
Queen of Sheba's 
Visit to King 
Solomon," now 
the property of 
the Australian 
Govern m en t t 
and " His First 
Birthday " have all been great successes of 
the house which issued "Cherry Ripe/' Sir 
John Everett MillaiVs famous picture of 
childhood, for the copyright of which i,coo 
guineas was paid after the Graphic had 
printed some 300,000 copies of it in colour 
as a supplement to the Christmas number. 
So extraordinary was the popularity that 
Mr. McLean has had every reason to 
congratulate himself on the acumen which 
induced him to make the purchase. 
Original from 


Strange Sfitdies from Life. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

[ The eases deal! with in this series art studies from the actual history of crime, though occasionally names 
have been changed where their retention might cause fain to surviving relatives.} 



N the study of criminal psy- 
chology one is forced to the 
conclusion that the most dan- 
i^rous of all types of mind 
is that of the inordinately 
selfish man. He is a man 
who has lost his sense of proportion* 1 1 is 
own will and his own interest have blotted 
out for him the duty which he owes to the 
community* Impulsiveness, jealousy, vin- 
dictiveness are the fruitful parents of crime, 
but the insanity of selfishness is the most 
dangerous and also the most unlovely of them 
all. Sir Willoughby Patterne, the eternal type 
of all egoists, may he an amusing and harm- 
less character as long as things 
go well with him, but let 
him be thwarted — let the thing 
which he desires be withheld 
from him> and the most mon- 
strous results may follow. 
Huxley has said that a man in 
this life is for ever playing 
a game with an unseen oppo- 
nent, who only makes his pre- 
sence felt by exacting a penalty 
every time one makes a mistake 
in the game. The player who 
makes the mistake of selfish- 
ness may have a terrible forfeit 
to pay — but the unaccount- 
able thing in the rules is that 
some, who are only spectators 
of his game, may have to help 
him in the paying. Read the 
story of William Godfrey 
Youngman, and see how diffi- 
cult it is to understand the 
rules under which these penal- 
ties are exacted. Learn also 
from it that selfishness is no 
harmless peccadillo, but that 
it is an evil root from which 
the most monstrous growths 
may spring. 

About forty miles to the 
south of London, and close to 
the rather pass? watering-place 
of Tun bridge Wells, there lies 
the liLtle townlet of Wad- 
hurst. It is situated within "*««uhuu 

the borders of Sussex at a point which is 
close to the confines of Kent. The country 
is a rich pastoral one and the farmers are a 
flourishing race, for they are near enough 
to the Metropolis to take advantage of its 
mighty appetite. Among these farmers 
there lived in the year i860 one Streeter, 
the master of a small homestead and the 
father of a fair daughter, Mary Wells 
Streeter. Mary was a strong, robust girl, 
some twenty years of age, skilled in all 
country work, and with some knowledge also 
of the town, for she had friends up there, and 
above all she had one friend, a young man of 
twenty -five, whom she had met upon one of 





her occasional visits, and who had admired 
her so that he had actually come down to 
Wadhurst after her, and had spent a night 
under her father's roof. The father had 
expressed no disapprobation of the suitor, a 
brisk, masterful young fellow, a little vague 
in his description of his own occupation and 
prospects, but an excellent fireside com- 
panion. And so it came about that the 
deep, town-bred William Godfrey Youngman 
became engaged to the simple, country-bred 
Mary Wells Streeter, William knowing all 
about Mary, but Mary very little about 

July the 29th of that year fell upon a 
Sunday, and Mary sat in the afternoon in 
the window of the farm-house parlour, with 
her bundle of love-letters upon her lap, read- 
ing them again and yet again. Outside was 
the little square of green lawn, fringed with 
the homely luxuriance of an English country 
garden, the high hollyhocks, the huge 
nodding sunflowers, the bushes of fuchsia, 
and ' the fragrant clumps of sweet William. 
Through the open lattice came the faint, 
delicate scent of the lilac and the long, low 
droning of the bees. The farmer had lain 
down to the plethoric sleep ,of the Sunday 
afternoon, and Mary had the room to her- 
self. There were fifteen love-letters in all : 
some shorter, some longer, some wholly 
delightful, some with scattered business allu- 
sions, which made her wrinkle her pretty 
brows. There was this matter of the 
insurance, for example, which had cost her 
lover so much anxiety until she had settled it. 
No doubt he knew more of the world than 
she, but still it was strange that she, so young 
and so hale, should be asked and again 
asked to prepare herself for death. Even in 
the flush of her love those scattered words 
struck a chill to her heart. " Dearest girl," 
he had written, "I have filled up the paper 
now, and took it to the life insurance office, 
and they will write to Mrs. James Bone to-day 
to get an answer on Saturday. So you can 
go to the office with me before two o'clock on 
Monday." And then again, only two days 
later, he had begun his letter : "You promised 
me faithfully over and over again, and I 
expect you to keep your promise, that you 
would be mine, and that your friends would 
not know it until we were married ; but now, 
dearest Mary, if you will only let Mrs. James 
Bone write to the insurance office at once 
and go with me to have your life insured on 
Monday morning next ! " So ran the extracts 
from the letters, and they perplexed Mary as 
she read them. But it was all over now, and 

he should mingle business no longer with 
his love, for she had yielded to his whim, 
and the insurance for ^100 had been duly 
effected. It had cost her a quarterly pay- 
ment of 1 os. 4d., but it had seemed to please 
him, and so she would think of it no more. 

There was a click of the garden-gate, and 
looking up she saw the porter from the station 
coming up the path with a note in his hand. 
Seeing her at the window he handed it in and 
departed, slily smiling, a curious messenger 
of Cupid in his corduroys and clumping 
boots — a messenger of a grimmer god than 
Cupid, had he but known it. She had 
eagerly torn it open, and this was the message 
that she read : — 

" 16, Manor Place, Newington, S.E. 
" Saturday night, July 28th. 

" My beloved Polly, — I have posted one 
letter to you this afternoon, but I find that I 
shall not have to go to Brighton to-morrow as 
I have had a letter from there with what I 
wanted inside of it, so, my dear girl, I have 
quite settled my business now and I am quite 
ready to see you now, therefore I send this 
letter to you. I will send this to London 
Bridge Station to-morrow morning by 6.30 
o'clock and get the guard to take it to Wad- 
hurst Station, to give it to the porter there, who 
will take it to your place. I can only give 
the guard something, so you can give the 
man who brings this a small sum. I shall 
expect to see you, my dear girl, on Monday 
morning by the first train. I will await your 
coming at London Bridge Station. I know 
the time the train arrives — a quarter to ten 
o'clock. I have promised to go to my 
uncle's to-morrow, so I cannot come down ; 
but I will go with you home on Monday 
night or first thing Tuesday morning, and so 
return here again Tuesday night, to be ready 
to go anywhere on Wednesday ; but you 
know all that I have told you, and I now 
expect that you will come up on Monday 
morning, when I shall be able to manage 
things as I expect to do. Excuse more now, 
my dearest Mary. I shall now go to bed to 
be up early to-morrow to take this letter. 
Bring or burn all your letters, my dear girl. 
Do not forget ; and with kind love and 
respects to all I now sum up, awaiting to 
see you Monday morning a quarter to ten 
o'clock. — Believe, me, ever your loving, affec- 

"William Godfrey Youngman." 

A very pressing invitation this to a merry 
day in town ; but there were certainly some 
curious phrases in it. What did he mean by 
saying that he would manage things as he 




expected to do? And why should .she burn 
or bring her love-letters? There, at least, 
she was determined to disobey this masterful 
suitor who always w expected" in so authori- 
tative a fashion that she would do this or 
that, Her letters were much too precious to 
be disposed of in this off-hand fashion. She 
packed them back, sixteen of theni now, into 
the little tin box in which she kept her simple 
treasures, and then ran to meet her father, 
whose step she heard upon the stairs, to tell 
him of her invitation and the treat which 
awaited her to-morrow! 

At a quarter to ten next morning William 
Godfrey Young man was waiting upon the 
platform of London 
Bridge Station to meet 
the Wadhurst train which 
was bringing his sweet- 
heart up to town. No 
observer glancing down 
the straggling line of 
loiterers would have 
picked him out as the 
man whose name and 
odious fame would before 
another day was passed 
be household words to 
all the three million 
dwellers in London. In 
person he was of a 
goodly height and build, 
but commonplace in his 
appearance, and with a 
character which was only 
saved from insignificance 
through the colossal 
selfishness, tainted with 
insanity, which m a d e 
him conceive that all 
things should bend be- 
fore his needs and will, 
So distorted was his out- 
look that it even seemed 
to him that if he wished 
people to be deceived 
they must be deceived, 
and that the weakest 
device or excuse, if it 
came from him, would 
pass unquestioned. He had been a journey- 
man tailor, as his father was before him, but 
aspiring beyond this, he had sought and ob- 
tained a situation as footman to Dr. Duncan, 
of Co vent Garden. Here he had served 
with credit for some time, but had finally re- 
signed his post and had returned to his father's 
house, where for some time , he had been 
living upon the hospitality of his hard- worked 

parents, He had talked vaguely of going 
into farming, and it was doubtless his short 
experience of Wadhurst with its sweet-smell- 
ing kine and Sussex breezes which had put 
the notion into his Cockney head. 

But now the train rolls in, and there at a 
third class window is Mary Strecter with her 
pink country cheeks, the pinker at the sight 
of her waiting lover. He takes her bag and 
they walk down the platform together 
amongst the crinolined women and baggy- 
trousered men whose pictures make the 
London of this date more strange to us than 
that of last century. He lives at Walworth, 
in South London, and a straw-strewn omni- 


bus outside the station conveys them almost 
to the door. It was eleven o'clock when 
they arrived at Manor Place, where Young- 
man's family resided. 

The household arrangements at Manor 
Place were peculiar. I 1 he architect having 
not yet evolved the flat in England, the 
people had attained the same result in 
another fashion. The tenant of a two-storied 




house resided upon the ground-floor, and 
then sub-let his first and second floors to 
other families. Thus, in the present instance, 
Mr. James Bevan occupied the ground, Mr, 
and Mrs. Heard the first, and the Youngman 
family the second, of the various floors of 
No, 1 6, Manor 
Place. The 
ceilings were 
tli in and the 
stairs were in 
common, so it 
may be ima- 
gined that each 
family took a 
lively interest 
in the doings of 
its neighbour. 
Thus Mr. and 
Mrs. Beard of 
the first floor 
were well aware 
that yo u 11 g 
Youngman had 
brought his 
home, and were 
even ablu 
through half- 
closed doors to 
catch a glimpse 
of her, and to 
report that his 
her was affec- 

It was not a 
very large family 
to which he 
introduced her. 
The father de- 
parted to his 
tailoring at five 
o'clock every 
morning and 
returned at ten at night. 
There remained only the 
mother t a kindly, anxious, 
hard - working woman, and 
two younger sons aged 
eleven and seven. At eleven 
o'clock the boys were at 
school and the mother alone- 
She welcomed her country visitor, eyeing her 
meanwhile and summing her up as a mother 
would do when first she met the woman 
whom her son was likely to marry. They 
dined together, and then the two set forth to 
see something of the sights of London. 


No record has been left of what the 
amusements were to which this singular 
couple turned : he with a savage, unrelenting 
purpose in his heart ; she wondering at his 
abstracted manner, and chattering country 
gossip with the shadow of death already 

thickly over 
her. One little 
incident has 
survived* One 
lid ward Spicer, 
a bluff, otl t - 
spoken public 
can who kept 
the Green 
Dragon in Ber- 
k n e w M a r y 
Streeter and 
her father. The 
couple called 
together at the 
inn t and Mary 
presented her 
lover. We have 
no means of 
knowing what 
repellent look 
mine host may 
have observed 
in the young 
man's face, or 
what malign 
trait he may 
have detected 
in his charac- 
ter, but he drew 
the girl aside 
and whispered 
that it was 
better for her 
to take a rope 
and hang her- 
self in his skittle-alley 
than to marry such a 
man as that — a warning 
which seems to have 
met the same fate as 
most other warnings re- 
ceived by maidens of 
their lovers. In the 
evening they went to the 
theatre together to see one of Macrcady s tra- 
gedies. How could she know as she sat in the 
crowded pit, with her silent lover at her side t 
that her own tragedy was far grimmer than any 
upon the stage ? It was eleven o'clock before 
they were baitH ' 6ili#lffl QVe at Manor Place. 





The hard-working tailor had now returned, 
and the household all supped together. Then 
they had to be divided for the night between 
the two bedrooms, which were all the family 
possessed. The mother, Mary, and the boy 
of seven occupied the front one. The father 
slept on his own board in the back one, and 
in a bed beside him lay the young man and 
the boy of eleven. So they settled down 
to sleep as commonplace a family as any in 
London, with little thought that within a 
day the attention of all the great city would 
be centred upon those two dingy rooms and 
upon the fates of their inmates. 

The father woke in the very early hours, 
and saw in the dim light of the dawn the 
tall figure of his son standing in white beside 
his bed. To some sleepy remark that he 
was stirring early the youth muttered an 
excuse and lay down once more. At five 
the tailor rose to his endless task, and at 
twenty minutes past he went down the stair 
and closed the hall door behind him. So 
passed away the only witness, and all that 
remains is conjecture and circumstantial 
evidence. No one will ever know the exact 
details of what occurred, and for the purpose 
of the chronicler it is as well, for such details 
will not bear to be too critically examined. 
The motives and mind of the murderer are 
of perennial interest to every student of 
human nature, but the vile record of his 
actual brutality may be allowed to pass away 
when the ends of justice have once been 
served by their recital. 

I haye said that on the floor under the 
Youngmans there lived a couple named 
Beard. At half-past five, a little after the 
time when the tailor had closed the hall door 
behind him, Mrs. Beard was disturbed by a 
sound which she took to be from children 
running up and down and playing. There 
was a light patter of feet on the floor above. 
But as she listened it struck her that there 
was something unusual in this romping at so 
early an hour, so she nudged her husband 
and asked him for his opinion. Then, as 
the two sat up in bed, straining their ears, 
there came from above them a gasping cry 
and the dull, soft thud of a falling body. 
Beard sprang out of bed and rushed upstairs 
until his head came upon the level of the 
Youngmans' landing. He saw enough to 
send him shrieking down to Mr. Bevan upon 
the ground-floor. " For God's sake, come 
here ! There is murder !" he roared, fumbling 
with his shaking fingers at the handle of the 
landlord's bedroom. 

His summons did not find the landlord 

entirely unprepared. That ill-boding thud 
had been loud enough to reach his ears. 
He sprang palpitating from his bed, and the 
two men in their nightdresses ascended the 
creaking staircase, their frightened faces lit 
up by the blaze of golden sunlight of a July 
morning. Again they do not seem to have 
got farther than the point from which they 
could see the landing. That confused huddle 
of white-clad figures littered over the passage, 
with those glaring smears and blotches, were 
more than their nerves could stand. They 
could count three lying there, stark dead 
upon the landing. And there was someone 
moving in the bedroom. It was coming 
towards them. With horror-dilated eyes they 
saw William Godfrey Youngman framed in 
the open doorway, his white nightdress 
brilliant with ghastly streaks and the sleeve 
hanging torn over his hand. 

" Mr. Beard," he cried, when he saw the 
two bloodless faces upon the stairs, "for 
God's sake fetch a surgeon ! I believe there 
is some alive yet ! " Then, as they turned 
and ran down stairs again, he called after 
them the singular explanation to which he 
ever afterwards adhered. " My mother has 
done all this," he cried ; " she murdered my 
two brothers and my sweetheart, and I in 
self-defence believe that I have murdered 

The two men did not stop to discuss the 
question with him. They had both rushed 
to their rooms and huddled on some clothes. 
Then they ran out of the house in search 
of a surgeon and a policeman, leaving Young- 
man still standing on the stair repeating his 
strange explanation. How sweet the morn- 
ing air must have seemed to them when they 
were once clear of the accursed house, and 
how the honest milkmen, with their swinging 
tins, must have stared at those two rushing 
and dishevelled figures. But they had not 
far to go. John Varney, of P Division, as 
solid and unimaginative as the law which he 
represents, was standing at the street corner, 
and he came clumping back with reassuring 
slowness and dignity. 

" Oh, policeman, here is a sight ! What 
shall I do ? " cried Youngman, as he saw the 
glazed official hat coming up the stair. 

Constable Varney is not shaken by that 
horrid cluster of death. His advice is 
practical and to the point. 

" Go and dress yourself ! " said he. 

" I struck my mother, but it was in self- 
defence," cried the other. " Would you not 
have done the same ? It is the law." 

Constable Varney is not to be drawn into 


UHIY \-T\J\ I I 



giving a legal opinion, but he is quite con- 
vinced that the best thing for Youngman to 
do is to put on some clothes. 

And now a crowd had begun to assemble 
in the street, and another policeman and an 
inspector had arrived, It was clear that, 
whether Youngman's story was correct or not, 
he was a self-confessed homicide, and that 
the law must hold her grip of him. But 
when a dagger-shaped knife, splintered by 
the force of repeated blows, was found upon 
the floor, and Youngman had to confess 
that it belonged to him ; when also it was 
observed that ferocious strength and energy 
were needed to produce the wounds inflicted, 
it became increasingly evident that, instead 
of being a mere victim oF circumstances, 

The horror and the apparent purposeless- 
ness of the deed roused public excitement and 
indignation to the highest pitch. The miser- 
able sum for which poor Mary was insured 
appeared to be the sole motive of the crime ; 
the prisoner's eagerness to have the business 
concluded, and his desire to have the letters 
destroyed in which he had urged it, forming 
the strongest evidence against him. At the 
same time, his calm assumption that things 
would be arranged as he wished them to 
be, and that the Argus Insurance Office 
would pay over the money to one who 
was neither husband nor relative of the 
deceased j pointed to an ignorance of the ways 
of business or a belief in his own powers of 
managing which in either case resembled 


this man was one of the criminals of a 
century. But all evidence must be circum- 
stantial, for mother, sweetheart, brothers — 
the mouths of all were closed in the one 
indiscriminate butchery* 

Vol. *xi.-33. 

by Google 

insanity. When in addition it came out at 
the trial that the family was sodden with 
lunacy upon both sides, that the wife's mother 
and the husband's brother were in asylums, 
and that the husband's father had been in an 
Original from 



asylum, but had become " tolerably sensible " 
before his death, it is doubtful whether the 
case should not have been judged upon 
medical rather than upon criminal grounds. 
In these more scientific and more humani- 
tarian days it is perhaps doubtful whether 
Youngman would have been hanged, but 
there was never any doubt as to his fate in 

The trial came off at the Central Criminal 
Court upon August 16th before Mr. Justice 
Williams. Few fresh details came out, save 
that the knife had been in prisoner's posses- 
sion for some time. He had exhibited it 
once in a bar, upon which a bystander, 
with the good British love of law and order, 
had remarked that that was not a fit knife for 
any man to carry. 

"Anybody," said Youngman, in reply, 
" has the right to carry such a knife if he 
thinks proper in his own defence." 

Perhaps the objector did not realize how near 
he may have been at that moment to getting 
its point between his ribs. Nothing serious 
against the prisoner's previous character came 
out at the trial, and he adhered steadfastly to 
his own account of the tragedy. In summing 
up, however, Justice Williams pointed out 
that if the prisoner's story were true it meant 
that he had disarmed his mother and got 
possession of the knife. What necessity was 
there, then, for him to kill her — and why 
should he deal her repeated wounds ? This 
argument, and the fact that there were no 
stains upon the hands of the mother, pre- 
vailed with the jury, and sentence was duly 
passed upon the prisoner. 

Youngman had shown an unmoved de- 
meanour in the dock, but he gave signs of 
an irritable, and occasionally of a violent, 
temper in prison. His father visited him, 
and the prisoner burst instantly into fierce 
reproaches against his treatment of his 
family — reproaches for which there seem to 
have been no justification. Another thing 
which appeared to have galled him to the 
quick was the remark of the publican, which 
first reached his ears at the trial, to the effect 
that Mary had better hang herself in the 
skittle-yard than marry such a man. His 
self-esteem, the strongest trait in his nature, 
was cruelly wounded by such a speech. 

" Only one thing I wish," he cried, 

furiously, "that I could get hold of this 
man Spicer, for I would strike his head off." 
The unnatural and bloodthirsty character of 
the threat is characteristic of the homicidal 
maniac. " Do you suppose," he added, with 
a fine touch of vanity, "that a man of my 
determination and spirit would have heard 
these words used in my presence without 
striking the man who used them to the 
ground ? " 

But in spite of exhortation and persuasion 
he carried his secret with him to the grave. 
He never varied from the story which he had 
probably concocted before the event. 

"Do not leave the world with a lie on 
your lips," said the chaplain, as they walked 
to the scaffold. 

" Well, if I wanted to tell a lie I would 
say that I did it," was his retort. He 
hoped to the end with his serene self-belief 
that the story which he had put forward 
could not fail eventually to be accepted. 
Even on the scaffold he was on the alert 
for a reprieve. 

It was on the 4th of September, a little 
more than a month after the commission of 
his crime, that he was led out in front of 
Horsemonger Gaol to suffer his punishment. 
A concourse of 30,000 people, many of 
whom had waited all night, raised a brutal 
howl at his appearance. It was remarked at 
the time that it was one of the very few 
instances of capital punishment in which no 
sympathizer or philanthropist of any sort 
could be found to raise a single voice against 
the death penalty. The man died quietly 
and coolly. 

"Thank you, Mr. Jessopp," said he to the 
chaplain, " for your great kindness. See my 
brother and take my love to him, and all at 

And so, with the snick of a bolt and 
the jar of a rope, ended one of the most 
sanguinary, and also one of the most un- 
accountable, incidents in English criminal 
annals. That the man was guilty seems to 
admit no doubt, and yet it must be confessed 
that circumstantial evidence can never be 
absolutely convincing, and that it is only the 
critical student of such cases who realizes 
how often a damning chain of evidence may, 
by some slight change, be made to bear an 
entirely different interpretation. 

by Google 

Original from 

A Russian Girt on. 

By Au'ikk Andkksom. 

T was now a common thing 
to see young virgins so 
trained in the study of good 
letters that they willingly set 
all other vain practices at 
naught for learning's sake." 
Thus wrote Mr. Udall, a famous master of 
Eton, nearly four hundred years ago, in a 
preface to a work written by the Princess 
Mary before she came to the throne. 

Between the years 1500 and 1600, indeed, 
to whatever cause attributable, there arose 
in England a perfect galaxy of women who, 
without abdicat- 
ing a single one 
of the preroga- 
tives of their sex, 
rivalled, some- 
times even sur- 
passed, on their 
own ground, the 
most learned 
men of the age. 
" The times are 
t o psy-tu rvy," 
exclaimed Eras- 
mus — the most 
learned man 
who ever lived . 
" M o 11 k s no w 
know nothing of 
letters, while 
women dote on 
books. 51 

Good ground 
had the author 
of the " Praise 

of Folly M for wonder. The celebrated 
daughters of Sir Thomas More, Lady Jane 
(Irey, Mary of Scotland, and Mary of 
England, Lady Burleigh, liidy Bacon, and 
many another, including the greatest of 
them all, that bright Occidental star, 
Queen Elizabeth, were all nearly contem- 

"God's death, my lords! I have been 
forced this day to scour up my old Latin that 
hath long lain rusting," said the Queen, 
apologetically, to her courtiers, when, her 
fiery spirit roused by the insolent attitude of 
the King of Poland's Ambassador, she fell 
hack on the language of Cicero, as better 
suited to express the indignation that was 
boiling in her breast. The audacious envoy 
winced and blanched as he listened to the 

scathing, voluble denunciation from the lips 
of the woman he had ventured to insult* 

In spite of the raillery of the wits, in 
which there may just have been a soafifon 
of jealousy, the traditions of that sixteenth 
century have never been entirely lost in 
England. Neither the bright shafts of 
Moliere's irony nor the vicious stabs of the 
little humpbacked genius of Twickenham 
could kill the movement so auspiciously 
inaugurated. " Artemisia/* who, though 
u she talks by fits of councils, classics, 
fathers, wits, reads Malebranche, Boyle, and 




1 ""** 


'Mi ^^! 


--■ = ! 

9 it M^VVvwh WW # ¥'WT""*nr , s ■> : *hp* 

Wwn a] 



by Google 

Locke, ? ' yet neglects to keep either her nails 
or her dresses clean, was never typical, but 
of the parasites that must invariably accom- 
pany every movement good or bad. A 
race of gentlemen from Hanover, who 
liked neither " boetry " nor "bainting" in 
man, much less Latin or Greek in woman, 
occupied the throne that had once been 
Elizabeth's, but they, too, one after an- 
other went their way. All the time there 
was someone to carefully trim and hand 
on to trusty hands the sacred lamp, until, 
about three decades since, women students 
were for the first time admitted to attend 
lectures in Cambridge University. The 
event created furious discussion at the 
time, but, in reality, the chief point rem lik- 
able about it was, perhaps, that it had 

Original from 



been so long in coming to pass- Men 
had been encroaching more and more with- 
out apparent shame on woman's domain. A 
writer on sociology in the earlier part of the 
century just ended stigmatised the ousting of 
women from drapers* shops as one of the most 
reprehensible customs of our times. " It is 
really humiliating," he says, " to see young 
men, in the prime of life, engaged in selling 
tapes, caps, and ribbons, and bestowing as 
much consideration on the shades and shapes 
of one of these articles as a statesman would 
on framing an Act of Parliament. 1 * Even 

It is interesting to see the steps by which 
the same problem has been solved in Russia, 
the Russia which inspired Elizabeth with 
such horror, when the question was mooted 
of her sojourning there ; the Russia of 
which Elizabeth's successor, James L, was so 
ignorant, that he did not even know the 
proper title of the Czar ; the Russia where 
women, barely a century and a half ago, had 
less opportunity for culture than have the 
women of Turkey to-day. 

In 1 86 1 the first formal request was made 
by a Russian woman for admission to follow 




yet, Girton and Newnham Colleges are quite 
inaccessible to slenderly garnished purses, 
the .idea that a good education must neces- 
sarily be a costly luxury dying hard in 
democratic England. 

The nation seems to be, at last, awakening 
to the conviction that it may possibly be 
living in a fool's paradise, a fact long distress- 
ingly apparent to many not hypnotized by a 
glorious past and its idols* We have practical 
proof before our eyes of what follows the 
application of more liberal ideas, in the pro- 
sperity of men of our own race in America. 
The writer of an official report of last year 
on female education in the United States 
attributes "the phenomenal industrial pro- 
gress" of the country to the fact that "the 
men of the poorer classes have had, as a rule, 
mothers as well educated as their fathers ; 
indeed, better educated* Our commercial 
rivals/ 3 he goes on to say, " could, probably, 
take no one step that would so tend to place 
them on a level with American competition 
as to open to girls without distinction all 
their elementary and secondary schools for 

by Google 

the medical course at a University. Contrary 
to what took place in England, the proposal 
encountered practically no opposition, either 
from the profession or the public, and by 
the following year the sight of women 
attending lectures in the St. Petersburg 
Academy of Medicine and Surgery had 
ceased to be a novelty for anyone, Sine© 
then the privilege has, for various reasons, 
been temporarily withdrawn once or twice, 
but the medical education of women in 
Russia is now so firmly established that one 
of the largest hospitals in St Petersburg, 
containing more than 600 beds, has just 
been opened for the instruction of the 
students. At the beginning of 1900 there 
were 500 students attending the Women's 
Institute of Medicine, a large proportion of 
whom look with confidence to find an outlet 
for their energies in the Asiatic provinces of 
the Empire, In 1899 a residential college 
was completed, at a cost of nearly ^£30^000, 
tu accommodate 117 students. 

The first idea of founding a special 
University for Women, apart from the study 
of medicine, dates from 1866. It originated 

Original from 



in a circle of literary women in St. Peters- 
burg, the chief initiative being taken by Mrs. 
Konradi, the editress of an admirably con- 
ducted weekly paper JVede/ia. In May, 1868, 
a petition signed by 400 of the leading ladies 
in the capital was presented to the rector of 
the St. Petersburg University, begging for 
his aid in favour of the establishment of a 
University for Women. Not only did the 
rector give the project his hearty support at 
once j but public opinion adopted it without 
hesitation as if it had been the most natural 
proposition in the world. One of the first 
letters of congratulation received by the 
promoters from abroad was written by John 
Stuart Mill 

A committee set about organising the affair 
without delay. All the most eminent pro- 
fessors at the University put their services at 
the committee's disposal, and by the end of 
a few weeks various series of lectures for 
women in literature, science, and mathematics 
w r ere arranged and numerously attended. A 
few months later women were admitted to 
follow the lectures given in various educa- 

from men, but from women. By January, 
1870, they had so far succeeded as to have 
secured the use of certain class rooms for 
evening lectures, and from that first year the 
students numbered over yoo, The fees were 
fixed at only £2 10s, for the half-year. 
Just at the same time Girt on was making 
a somewhat painful beginning with five pupils 
in a house at Hitch in. Newnham dates from 

To return to Russia, however. After a 
lapse of a few years it became clear that, if 
the new teaching was to bear as good fruit as 
it should, some pains would have to be taken 
with its organization. The lectures were 
suspended for three years therefore, from 
1875 until 1878, when they were recom- 
menced on a different footing. There were 
three faculties— literature, science, and pure 
mathematics, Candidates for admission had 
to prove that they had finished a course of 
education at a gymnasium or its equivalent. 
The fees were now j£io annually; and within 
a year or two the revenue amounted to nearly 
^6,ooo, exclusively from this source. 

From a ] 


[ photaQiTltsh. 

tional establishments, in company with 
students of the opposite sex, In many of the 
American States the system of co education 
of the sexes has been in operation with the 
most satisfactory results for three-quarters of 
a century, and, however galling it may be 
to male amour prop re ^ it has actually been 
established beyond cavil that the average 
woman is intellectually slightly superior to 
the average man* 

This was not what Russian women wanted, 
however ; they had set their hearts on having 
a regular separate University for Women, and 
it is noticeable that, in the United States 
also, any objections to co-education come, not 

by Google 

The Women's University had still no 
capital and no house it could call its own, 
the lectures being held, on sufferance only, in 
the class-rooms of a school lent Tor the even- 
ing by the Government, To remedy this, a 
number of sympathizers with the movement 
formed themselves into a Society for the 
Protection of Higher Studies for Women, 
each member subscribing 10s. annually, 
Subscripiions and donations poured into the 
hands of the treasurer, Mrs. Bar be de 
Taniovsky, one of the principal promoters 
of .the movement from the first. First the 
Government accorded an annual subsidy of 
^300 yearly, then the Municipality of St, 
Original from 



Petersburg did the same, and at the end of 
a year or two, with no more official help than 
this, a large University for Women, costing, 
with the ground, nearly j£^ 5,000, had been 
erected in close proximity to the University 
and other principal educational establish- 
ments of the capital 

Before she is allowed to attend the 
University the Russian girl must furnish a 
great variety of what the French term 
fwftiers. In addition to a certificate of 
ability, she must produce birth and baptism 
certificates, the written consent of her parents 
or guardians, several photographs of herself, 
proof that she has sufficient means to live 
decently during the continuance of her 
studies, and, finally, a testimonial as to her 
morality, which she must obtain from the 
head of the police. There is no entrance 
examination, but the candidates who possess 
the best testimonials are selected first. The 
college fees amount to ^iq annually, pay- 
able in two half-yearly instalments in 

there are two faculties, the exact equiva- 
lent of those in men's Universities : one the* 
historical ■ philological faculty — by far the 
most popular ; the other the physical-mathe- 
matical faculty; Latin, German, French, 
theology, and choral singing are taught in 

The Government at first limited the 
number of students to 400, but the appli- 

cations were so numerous that the maximum 
had very soon to be raised to 6oo, and 
subsequently increased, until last year there 
were no fewer than 960 students. It was 
stipulated by the Government that students 
must either live with their parents or with 
near relatives, or else in quarters under the 
supervision of the '* Society." Young ladies 
living free and unfettered were not to be 
tolerated, a restriction for which there are 
many very valid reasons. 

This made it naturally indispensable, if 
the University was to open to students with- 
out relatives in St. Petersburg, that lodgings 
of some kind should be provided, At first 
several houses were rented for the purpose ; 
but by 181)5 a large residential building 
adjoining the University had been erected, 
at a cost of about ;£ 17,000, with accom- 
modation for eighty-five pupils. They are 
each charged j£$o annually, which sum 
covers their board, lodging, lights, and wash- 
ing, just a trifle over what they actually cosL 
\V hen the balance-sheet is made up at the end 
of the year the difference between the exact 
cost and the sum paid is returned to the 
pupils. On one occasion this amounted to 
nearly ^4 each. From this it will be seen 
that ^40 a year covers both the college fees 
and all other expenditure, apart from dress. 
First year's students share a room between 
two ; senior students have a room for them* 
selves* A feature of every Russian bedroom 

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Original from 




Fro+rt t*\ 


may be seen in the little pile of pillows, 
without which no Russian bed would be 
considered complete. 

The public rooms, such as the recreation 
room and dining-room, are open both 
to resident and non - resident students. 
The latter can have any meals they may 
require at prices which are phenomenally 
low : fourpence for breakfast, sixpence for 
lunch, and seven pence halfpenny for dinner. 

The teaching is given, as in the Men's 
University t exclusively hy means of lectures, 
exami nations being held at the end of the 
year and on the conclusion of the course of 
study, which is of three or four years' dura- 
tion. The girls are expected to take notes 
of the lectures, and frequently, though for 
the most part 
guiltless of any 
knowledge of 
acquire a dex- 
terity in the task 
that would put to 
the blush many a 
so-called reporter. 

If the final 
examination be 
passed satisfac- 
torily a certificate 
is given to testify 
to the fact, just 
as a man receives 
on terminating his 
University career. 
Neither one nor 
the other has 
degrees conferred 

as in England in 
exchange for 
what, to a poor 
man, may be a 
prohibitory cash 
payment. The 
Russian Univer- 
sity girl has not, 
therefore, the 
same grievance as 
her GlrtOn sister, 
who complains 
sometimes that, 
after passing the 
same examination 
as the men, she 
is not allowed to 
purchase the right 
to use a few mys- 
terious letters 
which would look 
so well after her name. The intelligent 
foreigner pokes a good deal of sly fun at 
us for this national foible, just as we are 
inclined to laugh at the Frenchman who 
decorates every button-hole he can with the 
ribbon of the Legion of Honour. 

The University contains a most complete 
series of laboratories, for physics, botany, 
zoology, mineralogy, physiology, and chemis- 
try. The last-named is particularly well 
fitted up, and provided with every description 
of apparatus for research. It was the gift of 
a private donor, Mrs, O. N. Roukavichnikova, 
This is but one out of many noble donations 
from Russian ladies. 

The library, which is constantly growing, 
as all libraries should, contains already over 

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Original from 

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I hi. LlBKAKV. 

24,000 volumes. As is the case with the 
other Universities, the Women's University is 
allowed to procure any books or manuscripts 
it may want from abroad, without having to 
pay any import duties and without asking the 
approval of the Government censor. This, it 
need hardly be said, is a privilege most keenly 
appreciated in Russia. The three librarians 
are all women. Of the forty-seven professors, 
however, who form the principal teaching 
staff, three only are women, 

In 1897 a second residential house was 
bought for ^8,000, in which forty pupils 
can be lodged, and at the present moment 
a new University building is almost com- 
pleted, the bill for 
which comes to 
,£18,500. In the 
first fifteen years 
of existence the 
Society for the 
Protection of 
Higher Studies for 
Women has ex- 
pended in build- 
ings over ;£6 0,000. 
In one single year 
its income from 
every source has 
amounted to as 
much as £20,000, 

Old students are 
already to be found 
in almost every 
profession to which 
women have as yet 

access, though, 
just as is the case 
with old Cam- 
bridge students, 
the majority of 
those obliged to 
gain their liveli- 
hood adopt teach- 
ing of one kind 
and another. It is 
interesting to note 
that, in America, 
considerably over 
50 per oent of 
all the teachers in 
secondary schools, 
whether public or 
private, are women : 
in speaking of a 
• teacher, the average 
American instinc- 
tively employs the feminine pronoun "she/* 
Journalism and literature — not always synony- 
mous terms — have gained fifty-seven recruits, 
while three students have been stage struck. 
Nearly one-half of the students have married 
either before or after the termination of their 

The Russian Women's University is but 
one phase of the extraordinary educational 
activity which is one of the most notice- 
able features of the Russia of the present 
day. Without a proper equipment of know- 
ledge the modern Russian, male or female, 
finds all avenues to advancement absolutely 

f-VpHi a] 


L Phobyffraph. 

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Original from 


By Basil Maknak. 

VERYONE in Trinidad agreed - 
that the name suited her. 
Even in her cradlt! the dreamy, 
wide blue eyes suggested recol- 
lections of the far off Eastern 
flower. A few sour - faced 
Spanish survivals curled their thin lips and 
made rude remarks. But if they reached 
Mrs* Devaine she only smiled, regarding 
complacently her own un wrinkled loveliness* 
Armand Devaine was by descent a French- 
man, and had hmu-ht his wife home to his 
plantations in Trinidad from the banks of 
the Nile, Among his friends in die Western 
world none had ever known the history of 
his marriage* But in Cairo the story of his 
escape with the daughter of one of the 
wealthiest merchants had been a nine days* 
wonder. And as he was one of the richest 
su^ar- planters in the West Indies the island 
accepted his lovely wife as a pleasant 

When, after the birth of Ixitus, the years 
went by without giving Devaine an heir, the 
interest of everyone with a marriageable son 
centred zealously round the girl* By the 
time she had reached the age of seventeen 
Lotus Devaine was a name to conjure by. 
Between her coquetry and the adamantine 

Vol *xi— 34* 

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refusal of her father to accept any suitor, one 
and all of her swains had a very hard time of 
it. Mrs. Devaine had been brought up in a 
habit of passive obedience, and in exchanging 
a father for a husband she merely changed 
masters* She never dreamt of questioning 
his decisions, yet she wondered more than 
once why her husband rejected so uncom- 
promisingly so tnany offers to alt appearances 

The girl herself revelled in the power of it. 
Spoilt and petted from her earliest days, she 
was a very tyrant of coquetry. Yet withal 
she had the depth and intensity of her 
father's mind, and something of his obstinacy, 
too, and in her heart was the same still 
capacity for enduring love and passion that 
had made her mother the idol of her father's 
heart, even after twenty years of marriage* 
She was amused at ihe fierce frenzies of 
her lovers, the heat of their jealousies, the 
tragedy of their despairs. She had a 
dramatic mind, quaintly practical, ever 
searching the humorous side of things. The 
tropical fervours of the young men who 
wooed her fitted in so beautifully with the 
yellow glare of the sun on the drooping 
canes, with the great arched reaches of the 
cocoa-nut palms, the flaming of flowers 
whose life was measured by a week. 
Original from 




She was the more amused because, deep in 
her heart, she held the shield of a secret that 
rendered impossible the surrender of herself 
to another. Like most girls, she valued 
manly strength higher than finesse in words 
or wit in compliment, and her warm, pas- 
sionate heart had ever guarded a particular 
shrine for hero-worship. And in front of 
this shrine there had glowed for three years 
a fire of devotion for l^arry Tighe, her fathers 
sub-manager. Its origin was simple enough. 

When Lotus was little over fourteen 
Larry had been sent by her father to bring 
her back from the school at San Fernando. 
The coolie rebellion was just over and the 
roads were not over-safe. Some ten miles 
out from the town, as I,arry and his charge 
were cantering gently along, they were 
suddenly surprised by a party of eight or 
nine coolies, armed with machetes and sticks. 
Mr. Devaine had taken a prominent part in 
squashing the rebellion, and a gang of 
refugees, having got word of his daughter's 
home-coming, had determined to capture her 
and hold her to a heavy ransom. 

Larry found himself in a grave position. 
There was no mistaking the evil intentions 
of the encircling gang. The road, flat and 
straight, showed no help was in sight. On 
one side extended a half-burnt cane-brake 
offering no cover ; on the other a stretch of 
marshy flats, lined on the roadside by a few 
straggling trees. lorry's eyes regarded the 
trees dubiously. In three minutes the coolies 
would rush them. 

" Quick, Miss Lotus ! " he said, catching 
her bridle-rein and drawing her horse along- 
side one of the trees. "Stand on your 
saddle and climb up into the branches. 
There ! Splendid ! " he shouted, as the girl 
swung herself nimbly up. " Now, take my 
revolver, and if any of them try and get up, 
don't be afraid, but shoot straight at them. 
And for the love of Heaven, Miss Lotus, 
don't shut your eyes when you shoot." 

Then, shifting the thong of his loaded crop 
over his wrist, and grasping the supple cane 
lightly, he turned and rode on the coolies. 
They had watched the previous proceeding 
with surprise, and as he charged they closed 
up. Lotus, peeping through the foliage, 
with flushed face and eager, luminous eyes, 
watched him, fascinated. 

Larry had not much notion of what exactly 
he was going to do when he charged. But 
as he dashed on to the scattering group, and 
his eyes caught the gleam and whirl of the 
machetes, he swung his crop right and left, 
feeling a sweet sensation of satisfaction as it 

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thudded singing on to head or arm or 
shoulder. Then his horse gave a great 
stagger as one of the coolies deftly houghed 
it, and he was just in time, as it fell heavily 
to the ground, to leap free of its agonized 
plungings, and turn to meet the rush. He 
was facing the girl now, and she felt a thrill 
of fear as she noted the hot light in his grey 
eyes, the close, trap-like setting of his lips. 
With wild yells the coolies rushed on, 
crouching and leaping like cats. But even 
as they came the deadly crop launched out, 
swinging right and left and laying two forms 
motionless on the ground. It was enough 
for the rest They turned and fled, scatter- 
ing in the cane-brake. 

It was with a heavy heart that Larry 
turned to put his mustang out of its misery. 
When he had finished he found Lotus at his 
side, her eyes gazing on him with a half- 
adoring directness that brought the blood to 
his cheeks and made him notice for the first 
time in his busy existence that his master's 
daughter was bewitchingly beautiful. His 
ride home was a kind of tingling dream. 
For the girl, pleading her fear of further 
pursuit, insisted on his mounting her 
mustang, while she, riding behind, clung 
on to his waist. It was not a comfortable 
position for either ot them, but they were 
both blissfully unconscious of the ridges of 
the saddle. 

From that day Lotus had given her heart 
to the gay Irishman — and, all unknowingly, 
had stolen his. Yet Larry had all the 
honour of his race and all its pride. As far 
as was possible he avoided his masters 
daughter, telling himself that he was a " poor 
divil M on a hundred a year, and she the 
heiress of as many thousands. Yet he had, 
too, the sanguine temperament of the Celt, 
and on all his excursions was for ever poking 
his nose into out-of-the-way places in the 
hope of finding fortune in mother-earth. 
And just about the time that Lotus was 
approaching her seventeenth birthday it was 
noticed by many that Larry had suddenly 
grown less shy of the bungalow, and that his 
manner towards Mr. Devaine was much 
more self-assured and independent than had 
hitherto been his wont. 

Mrs. Devaine, with a woman's intuition, 
divined at once that he was in love with 
Lotus, and — what gave her more anxiety — 
that Lotus showed herself extraordinarily 
susceptible when the manager was discussed 
disparagingly. Even more desirous than her 
husband that Lotus should make a <*ood 
marriage, she instantly acquainted him %nth 

Original from 





tier suspicions, 
and thus brought 
to a climax the 
crisis in the dis- 
posal of her 

Mr. De value's 
action was 
promptly taken. 
He sought his 
daughter in her 

favourite nook on the veranda, when the 
balcony was shaded by a subdued blaze of 
colour from orchids and vines and hanging 

" What is it, little father?" she said, looking 
up at him lovingly. He was a handsome 
man, slender in build, with black, crisp hair, 
clean-shaven, scholarly face, prominent chin, 
long, straight nose, an inflexible curve about 
the lips, and eyes of a deep, luminous black — 
in every way a striking contrast to his 
daughter. Ix>tus, for all her frank love 01 
him, ever stood in no little awe of him. 
Perhaps the unswerving obedience of her 
mother to his slightest wish had really lent 
him a somewhat despotic manner which his 
daughter grew to exaggerate* never having 
questioned it. And during the last few years 
this feeling in her had been intensified by a 
habit of moody irritability that had frequently 
fallen on him. Now, seeing his grave face 
and drawn brows, she rose and moved a 
chair towards him. 

" In a few days," he said to her, going 
straight to the point, " you will be seventeen. 
On that day I have arranged for your 

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betrothal to my old friend 
Roger Drayton. You will 
then accept him as your 
future husband, and your 
marriage will take place 
six months later. He is a 
rich man, and you will 
have everything to make 
you happy," 

The girl listened to him 

with a paling face and lips 

half- parted in dumb pro 

test. The mutinous set 

of her mouth as he finished 

brought a sort of 

wonder to his 


He had all the 
French idea of a 
father's right to 
arrange the mar- 
riage of his daugh- 
ter, and never for 
a moment had it 
occurred to him 
that Lotus would 
prove untraceable. 
Her very conduct 
hitherto in laugh- 
ingly supporting 
his rejection ol 
suitors she had 
apparently liked 
had only served to intensify his opinion. 

" Don't let me have any scenes, I beg you," 
he said, anticipating her outburst- " My 
mind is qfhe made up ; everything is 
arranged ; and my will and the care I have 
had for your interests should be sufficient for 

" But Mr, Drayton, father ! n she gasped, 
an indignant look flushing her eyes. " He is 
so old !— and so very ugly. Why, he must 
be as old as you are." 

" I am not aware that 1 am so very old,"' 
he answered, stiffiy, rising, " However, the 
matter is settled, and when Drayton arrives 
I trust your common sense will have returned 
—and your courtesy." 

Lotus watched him stalk solemnly away, 
thei% dropping into the great ariivchair, she 
curled herself up and fell into a reverie* At 
the end of half an hour her face was a little 
more flushed, and round the dimpling; 
curving lips a tender smile, half-shy, but 
wholly resolute, was playing. 

- * Manana : Manana ! " she whispered, 
slowly. u Tomorrow the betrothal — but 

to-day " 

Original from 




Then she tripped gaily off in search of her 
old coolie nurse and confidante, whom all 
the world called Coco by reason of her 
resemblance to an aged paroquet. 


The day of the betrothal came, finding 
Lotus in a mood of flippant obedience that 
taxed her father's patience sorely. She went 
through the public betrothal ceremony with 
a mock air of roguish coquetry that made her 
mother blink and her father mutter strange 
French oaths. Drayton, however, found her 
enthralling, and I-arry, who had purposely 
been invited by Devaine, witnessed the affair 
with a stolid imperturbability that utterly dis- 
counted Mrs. Devaine's suspicions. 

Roger Drayton, however, as he stood 
behind a large palm at the doorway, watching 
Lotus bid the guests farewell after the 
dejeuner^ received a sudden check to his 

For as I^arry clasped the girl's hand he 
distinctly saw her pass a note to him, and 
heard the words, " Five o'clock, waterfall ! " 

The suddenness of the shock took his 
breath away, and he stood for some moments 
gazing vindictively after the swinging, youthful 
figure of the Irishman. He looked at his 
watch and found it was just on four. He 
knew the waterfall well ; it was a half-hour's 
ride, and he had just resolved to be a party 
to the rendezvous when Mr. Devaine, touching 
him on the arm, remarked, " We'll get our 
little business over now, Drayton, if you don't 

For a moment he was tempted to recount 
what had passed, but he thought better of it. 
He was of a suspicious nature, and he 
thought he could manage a little eaves- 
dropping without Devaine's assistance. He 
followed his friend into his study, and, 
with ill-concealed impatience, listened to the 
planter's prosings over the day's events. 

He was a small, corpulent man, with a 
hard, legal-looking face, rather thick lips, 
round, bald skull, a short nose, and large, 
fierce moustache. His eyes were small, 
keen, and shifty as a ferret's, and in manner 
he had all the aggressive pomposity of a 
successful insurance agent. He had long 
discarded sugar for cacao, with the result 
that while his neighbours were being ruined 
he was making money, and lending it at 
heavy interest to meet their needs. Yet he 
came of one of the oldest families in the 
island, and in his way was a genial enough 
companion. Being shrewd, he had never 
disturbed Mr. Devaine's egoistic complacency 

Digitized by G* 

of superiority. Consequently the latter liked 
him, and when year after year the price of 
sugar fell and new economizing engines 
became a vital necessity, Devaine had 
accepted the other's proffered loans with 
the easy assurance of a spendthrift receiving 
an advance from a Jew, never dreaming that 
the Jew would have the logical impertinence 
of considering him a fool. In this way, 
little by little, Devaine's whole estates had 
glided under mortgage, till he found, by the 
time Lotus was fifteen, that he owed Drayton 
some forty thousand pounds, with practically 
no chance of ever being able to do more 
than pay the interest 

It was then that Drayton suggested that 
an alliance would unite the estates, cancel 
the bonds, and put his daughter in the 
position she had a right to expect. 
Devaine did not like it at first, but two bad 
seasons and the constant recurrence of the 
idea accustomed him to the thought of it. 
He felt a considerable delicacy, however, in 
approaching the subject this afternoon, and 
for a long time beat about the bush. 

Drayton, however, was finely unconscious 
of such susceptibility. He had bought Lotus 
and looked to pay the price, and being no 
niggard considered he had his bargain. 

" You want to speak about the mortgages, 
man ! " he said, bluntly, at length. " Well, 
I'll send them up to my lawyer this w T eek, 
and you can tie them on to your girl as fast 
as you like. I'm not the man to do a thing 
half-way. And now I'm off for a ride I 
saw your daughter go off a while ago, and I 
may as well do a bit of courting, now every- 
thing's above-board." 

Devaine had, however, kept him a long 
time, and it was after five before his horse 
was brought round. 

The planter's estates were large, extending 
almost from the sea some three miles inland 
to a spur of broken hills, thickly wooded, in 
the east. The road to the hills lay between 
the sugar-canes, which stretched away to the 
left, and the long avenues of cocoa-nut palms, 
which made on the right a pleasant contrast 
The road was very sandy, the glare of the 
sun coppery and oppressive, and Drayton 
had drunk many healths that day. By the 
time he reached the hills he was irritable, 
and inclined to be aggressive. 

Meanwhile Larry and Lotus had been 
having a cool talk in the shade at the foot of 
a silvery fall of water— that, blue, sparkling, 
and tinkling, made a pleasant undertone of 
music as it fell into a fair-sized pool and 
trickled slowly away into the forest depths. 




For two days before, as Larry had been 
sitting at the door of his hut, he had been 
startled by the sudden appearance of a 
coolie-woman whom he at once recognised 
as Coco, Lotus's nurse. 

She approached him mysteriously, salaam- 
ing with one hand, with the other holding 
her mouth. 

"The sahib,' 1 she said, as she arrived 
close to him; " the sahib thinks much of 
love ? " 

She was a wizened* curious old woman, 
with deep, burning eyes, wrinkled face, 
hooked nose and chin, and in tier linen 
garb and bright-coloured shawl and pro- 
fusion of silver bangles she made a quaint, 
half-mad picture in the dim light. 

Larry laughed genially, striving to rebut 
the sudden tingling at his heart. 

14 Perhaps," he said, fct Coco ! But why 
do you ask ? " 

"There is a mem-sahib,' 1 replied the old 
woman, "who also thinks much of love 
when she sits all alone and sighing under 
the trees where the waters fall." 

11 When does she sit there ?" said Larry, 
his eyes shining and his heart thumping now 

" When the dawn has not yet dried the 
dew," replied Lotus's nurse, and then, with- 
out another word, glided away. 

But it had been enough, and the next 
morning he had found Lotus by the water- 
fall— a shy, half-ashamed look in her eyes, 


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but an air of sweet expectancy about her 
timid greeting that changed to one of wholly 
blushing surrender before the impulsive 
ardour of his wooing* 

It had taken I^arry some time to persuade 
the girl into going through the semblance of 
a betrothal to Drayton. But he at length 

"Sure, darling," he had said, **it is just 
buying you, he is. Not that he wouldn't, 
the beast, be glad to have you for nothing, 
But he has your father under his thumb, 
and he dare not say * no.' " 

The suggestion of being sold roused Lotus 
to a fierce revolt, and she gave in, relying on 
lorry's promise to her. For he had said to 
her, '■ The very day of the betrothal, my 
darling, I will have the money and pay off 
those same mortgages myself. No ! 1 wont 
tell you a word about it till then — but my 
luck's turned at last, and it'll not be a poor 
man you'll wed*" 

When Larry met her at the tryst he was as 
good as his word. She listened with breath- 
less interest as the manager told her how, 
nearly twelve months ago, he had stumbled 
on an almost land locked cove whose waters, 
heavy and glistening with oil, had attracted 
his attention. After a minute search he had 
borrowed from Mi\ Devaine enough money 
to buy up the surrounding land, experts had 
confirmed his suspicions, and the day before 
he had sold his land, which was literally 
soaked with petroleum, to a company, and 

had ^7 5,000 now 
in the bank at 
San Fernando, 

In the blissful 
content of the 
news the two 
were sitting on 
the trunk of a 
great tree, gazing 
silently into the 
pool Larry's arm 
was round the 
girl's waist, her 
face was resting 
on his shoulder, 
upturned in a 
fearless gaze of 
worship. Roger 
Drayton, picking 
his way stealthily 
through the 
bushes, stood ar- 
rested at the sight 
Naturally it did 
not seem to him 

Original from 



that the two made a delightfully Arcadian 
picture. Yet they were perfectly suited. 

Larry was a long, supple-limbed, square- 
shouldered Celt, with a true Hibernian face, 
oval, quizzical, serious, with a wide, laughing 
mouth, deep, quirk grey eyes, and hair of a 
crisp, tawny yellow. With his white coat 
buttoned to the throat, his half-tops and 
spurs, his topee pushed back from the brow, 
he looked more like an Indian cavalry officer 
taking it easy than a hard-worked sugar- 

And Lotus certainly was sufficient excuse 
for his idling, Her eyes were of that deep 
velvety blue which in the sunlight seems 
violet, at night slue-black. Her face was of 
that round contour, so soft, fugitive, and 
bewitching, which is the chief beauty of the 
fairest Eastern girls* A small, rather imper- 
tinent, nose; lips that in the drawing of a 
breath coukl be at once mocking, seductive, 
languorous, and mutinous, or as ntn\\ with 

QW THE l J UUl-." 

their pretty scarlet curves rippling to a smile 
of utter content; tiny, shell-like ears ; a mass 
of red-gold hair waving hack from a brow 
white and broad, and gathered in a knot low 
on the neck ; a form slender, girlish, but 
exquisitely moulded, with the tiniest of hands 
and feet ; a frock of delicate clinging white, 


distractingly low at the round, smooth throat: 
this form and that face nestling into the per- 
vadium embrace of the Irishman : such was 
the picture that Roger Drayton looked upon 
from his covert in the jungle. 

Not for long, however ! His sense of 
possession had ever been keen. With a yell 
he dashed forward, and before Larry could 
recover his surprise he had sent him hurling 
backwards over the log. Next moment he 
had seized Lotus by the wrist. 

"You'll come home with me," he said, in 
a grimly snarling tone. lS Well see what 
your father says to my promised wife philan j 
dering with a penniless jackanapes like that. 
Til cure you of that, my mistress, when we're 

< l Larry 1 " called Lotus, w Larry ! Don't 
you see he is hurting my wrists horribly?" 

Larry had ju^t picked himself up, and was 

staring somewhat stupidly at the two. The 

words electrified him, however* With a 

bound he cleared the tree, and, as 

Drayton, with uplifted crop, turned to 

meet him, Larry dived under the blow, 

caught tl^e man by his capacious middle, 

and, swinging him clear above his head, 

hurled him straight and plumb into the 

centre of the pool. 

Lotus, frightened, 

?i' clung trembling on 

to his arm. 

14 Oh, Larry*" she 
said, "have you 
killed him?" 

4t Devil a bit: 1 ' 
replied I^rry, with 
a grin. iS He could 
never drown with 
his circumference." 

They waited till 
they saw Drayton 
floundering to the 
bank. His bald 
head, with its few 
erect hairs, his 
spluttering expres- 
sion of impotent, 
uncomfortable male- 
volence, his fierce 
eyes blinking and 
winking furiously, 
udicrmis wobbling of his 
body as he struck out for the side, were too 
much for the gravity of the girL 

Larry only grinned. He was rather 
ashamed of himself and sorry for Drayton, 
hut Lotus went into peals of uncontrollable 

Original from 


and, above all the 



" The ugly duckling ! " she gasped. " Isn't 
he funny ? " 

Her merriment was checked, however, as 
Drayton, reaching the bank, gave them a look 
of menace that for all his ridiculous appear- 
ance struck sudden fear to the girl's heart. 

He regarded them, silently, a few moments, 
then in a strained, rasping voice, hoarse with 
the passion of outraged vanity, he said to 
Lotus : — 

" If your father could give with you a 
hundred sovereigns to each hair of your 
empty head I would not take you now. But 
I'll make you and yours repent this day's 
work. And when you and your dainty 
mother and vain peacock of a father are out 
in the street " 

" Clear ! " interrupted Larry, sharply, with 
an imperative gesture. 

Drayton gave him a malignant glance, 
swung on his heel, and disappeared into the 

When, an hour later, Larry and Lotus 
entered the bungalow it was with no little 
trepidation, in spite of their heroic resolves. 
They did not become more reassured by 
meeting Mrs. Devaine crossing the long 
dining-room on her way from her husband's 
study. " Oh, Lotus," she said, tearfully, " you 
have ruined your father. He is waiting for 
you — you had better go in." 

" Wait for me, darling," said Larry, 
suddenly, and dived in alone. The inter- 
view was a long one. It began stormily, as 
Ix)tus could hear; then she heard Larry's 
voice, excited and rich in brogue. 

" Wad you give your daughter, sorr, to a 
man who called you yourself a vain peacock, 
and took hould of the swate child's wrists 
like an eliphant trying to tear up a tree with 
both its hands, whatever ? " 

After this eloquent outburst the voices 
lowered, and Lotus heard no more. But 
within half an hour l>arry and Mr. Devaine 
emerged from that door arm-in-arm, Larry 
having much that air of complacent mastery 
of the man who leads round the bear at the 

" Lotus, me darlin'," he said, " your father 
has consented, and you may embrace us 
both, beginning with meself." 

Then, as Devaine, with a smile and a nod, 
passed on, leaving the two alone, Larry burst 
out again : — 

"Such a job as I had of it with him. 
Buther wouldn't melt in his mouth till he 
heard Drayton had called him a vain pea- 
cock. Then he got very red and began to 

listen, and when I showed him my bank- 
book he dropped the misther and called me 
Larry. And when I tould him how I would 
pay off the mortgages he was fatherly as a 
hen over a basket of eggs. But thin he went 
all pale and pulled out a note. Now what 
do you think that blackguard Drayton has 
done ? It appears your father never bothered 
to pay the last interest of the mortgage, and 
your father has lost his right to redeem. 
That old Jew can foreclose at any blessed 
minit, and has written a note to say he'll 
send his solicitors down in two or three days 
to take possession." 

" Oh, Larry, shall we really be turned out ? " 
cried Lotus. 

" Your father thinks so," he replied ; " but 
I have got a notion of how I can make that 
fellow sell me the mortgages. I have all the 
particulars here, and I am off to San Fernando 
straight away." 

It was late that night when Larry arrived 
in the township and sought the house of 
Devaine's solicitor. From him he learnt 
that Drayton could undoubtedly take pos- 
session of Devaine's estate, and, so aided, 
utterly beggar him. 

" He will never consent to sell now," said 
the lawyer, after hearing the account of all 
that had happened. 

" There is persuasion and persuasion," said 
Larry, oracularly. " Anyhow, just draw me 
a regular release of all these mortgages in 
proper form and a receipt for the money." 

14 You will have to be quick if you are 
going to catch Drayton to-morrow," said the 
solicitor, as he parted from Larry an hour 
later. " His lawyer sent round to me 
to-night to ask me to confer with him and 
his client to-morrow at ten. I daresay hell 
be bringing up the deeds." 

"Thanks," said Larry, cheerfully, "I'm 
not intending to lose any time." 

He knew the way to Dm y ton's estate, 
and, taking it, rode hard for a couple of 
hours. Then, leaving Devaine's plantations 
to the left, he followed the road on to the 
beach. After passing along this for nearly a 
mile he dismounted, tethered his horse, and 
looked carefully around. For a mile either 
way he commanded a perfect view of a flat, 
mud-coloured beach : on one side the sea 
oily and sluggish, on the other a brake of 
reed and tangled bush and bog. About 
twenty yards from this brake a number of 
large white boulders marked the limits of a 
deadly, bottomless quicksand, which ran out 
to nearly low-water mark. 

Larry regarded these stones carefully. No 


■-■l l LJ 1 1 l u 1 1 1 ■_• 




"large white boulders marked the limits op a 
deadly, bottomless quicksand." 

one used that path save Drayton or the 
whiles staying with him. The natives had a 
holy horror of it. Then for a few minutes 
Larry went to work, and moved the corner 
stone of the row which marked that border 
to which Roger Drayton must approach ten 
yards farther out to sea. He then dis- 
appeared into the bush, and in two hours 
reappeared dragging after him six or seven 
bamboo saplings whose length could easily 
cover the angle Drayton would probably cross. 
By the time he had arranged everything to his 
satisfaction the dawn was breaking. A dip 
into the sea refreshed him, and then, per- 
ceiving in the distance the figure of a 
horseman advancing, he crouched low behind 
a boulder and watched. 

Drayton rode straight for the stone nearest 
the brake of bush, utterly unsuspecting. For 
a moment the speed of his horse carried him 
well into the dangerous sands before he 
noticed it. He was busy reading, and it was 
not till he heard the thud and wrenching 
squish of the horse's hoofs as it attempted to 
dng its feet free of the sucking sand that he 
realized what had happened. He glanced 
round wildly, helplessly. Not a soul was in 
sight — nothing save the long green roll of 
the sea, the sickly, sweet smell of the swamps, 
the " suck -suck " of the sand, and the strong 
tremors of the panting horse. 

He knew perfectly well that in an hour's 

time, should no help arrive, no trace of him 

would be left. As a last hope he let himself 

glide gently off his horse and made a dash 

for the firm ground. It was no good. At 

the third step he stuck. He felt an irritable 

sense of mortification as he saw his 

horse, released of its load, with a 

valiant effort gather itself together, 

buck, twist, and with a bound scramble 

into safety. 

Suddenly, as though starting fronj 
the earth, a man appeared, drawing 
after him a bundle of bamboos, 
lashed raft-wise. As he approached 
nearer Drayton recognised him as 
Larry Tighe, and yelled aloud in 
sheer relief. 

" Thank God youVe turned up so 
luckily," he cried, as the other stood 
on firm ground ten paces away. 

"It is lucky," replied Larry, laconically, 
and sitting on the sand he began to load his 

"What the deuce are you doing, man?" 
yelled Drayton. " Run the bamboos across. 
Can't you see I'm sinking ? " 

" Perfectly ! I want a little conversation 
with you ! " replied Larry, and taking no 
notice of the other's blasphemous and 
frenzied comments he pulled out* from his 
pocket a fountain pen and a packet of 

"See these?" he went on, phlegmatically, 
with stony disregard of the other's dumb look 
of rage. " No. 1 : Release of all the mort- 
gages you hold over Devaine ! No. 2 : 
Receipt for the money. No. 3 : My cheque 
in full for the amount. When you have 
signed the first two, 111 pass you the third 
and help you out. Will you sign ? " 

" I'll see you hanged first," roared Drayton, 
his face purple with fury. 

" Then you will be sucked slowly into that 
hungry, black ooze," said Larry, with a 
gruesome, relishing lingering over each 


For some minutes 
unbroken. Larry sat 

the silence reigned 
motionless, the blue 

by Google 

smoke ascending from his pipe in long, spiral 
curves, watching through half-closed lids the 
sinking man/ He wondered whether he 
would have the obstinate courage to compel 
him to get him out, his aim unattained. But 
he allowed no shadow of such a thought to 
appear on his face. Meanwhile, Drayton had 
sunk almost to the knees. His face was 
twitching, alternately flushed with rage and 
paled in fear. 

Original from 



2 73 

" You're a scoundrel!" he screamed, at 
length, as Larry's impervious, complacent, 
patient regard met his. 

" I know it! ?1 replied the other, in tones 
studiously humble, "But are you going to 
sign or be sucked down and down among 
the little worms? " 

The suction was gaining in strength. 
Drayton could hardly keep his balance. He 

raft along the surface of the quicksand, so 
that either end of it rested on the firm ground- 
"Clasp the poles," he called. "Bend 
forward ! Get your knees on .to the cross 
work ! That's right. Now you have only 
got to crawl along and pick the mud off your- 
self, and in an hour you'll be none the worse, 
I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you. Voir 11 
find the cheque all right." 


every moment 

of falling 

on his 

pole, for the love of 
tough sapling — just 

was afraid 

"Steady me with a 
Heaven I" he gasped. 

Larry held out a 
beyond bis touch, 

"Sign ?'* he asked again, in the same even, 
callous tone, 

u Curse you ! Yes ! " screamed Drayton, 
as, swaying forward; he clutched the pole. 

(t Sensible man! 1 ' replied Larry* " Don't 
be in a hurry. You shall sign first and get 
out afterwards. I will pass them to you with 
this forked slip. You will sign and pass 
them back. Fooling' only spells delay," 

Drayton received them with a livid face 
and trembling fingers. As he passed them 
back and pocketed the cheque an exulting 
smile lurked round the corners of his mouth. 

Larry gave him a peculiar grin, "No 
witnesses you think, eh?" he remarked, 
quizzingly. " Now, please, you'll throw the 
mortgage deeds right out into the sands. 
Then we shall not want any." 

Drayton sullenly obeyed. He had no 
choice, and he was getting terribly afraid. 
The heavy bundle sucked in by the ooze was 
out of sight in three minutes. Then with 
dexterous rapidhv I-arry ran out the ham ho* 

Vol. xxL— 35. 

Digitized by Google 

Then, while Drayton climbed fearingly out, 
Larry sped round the angle, replaced in its 
position the corner stone he had moved, 
and regained his horse tethered near the 

By the time Drayton recovered his temper 
and his mustang I^arry was a speck in the 

That evening there was joy in the bungalow. 
For Larry, being master of the situation, was 
formally accepted as master of Lotus, and 
joint owner with her father of the Devaine 
estates. But neither then, nor when three 
months later he and Lotus were safely 
married, would he ever divulge the means by 
which he had persuaded Roger Drayton to 
yield his mortgages, "I set a trap, and he 
walked right into it," he said ; but beyond 
that he would give no explanation. 

As for Drayton, he never told anyone, 
save his solicitor, and that astute man was so 
touched by the picture of his rotund client 
in such a predicament that he indulged in a 
fit of laughter, which so offended the irate 
little man that he transferred his affairs to 
another office. And I believe it was in a 
momentary fit of malice that that same 
amiable, yet jealous, attorney related the 
story to me. 

Original from 


From Behind the Speaker l s Chair. 





FOR many years following on 
N the death of the Prince Consort 
the Queen was an unfamiliar 
figure at Westminster, Members 
of reasonably long tenure of their seats 
never had opportunity of joining in the rush 
following the Speaker when he was bidden 
to the House of Lords to hear the Queen 
deliver her Speech. It was her personal 
esteem for Mr. Disraeli that, in 1876, when 
he, mounted on his horse, Spirited Foreign 
Policy, was in the flush of power and 
popularity, led her to break through her 

I was privileged to be present on 
the four occasions when the 
widowed Queen appeared at 
Westminster* Considering the 
brevity of the proceedings, preparation for 
due effect was made with infinite care. On 
such occasions only the peers wore their 
scarlet gowns. In order to make room for 
the peeresses, to whom the Opposition 
Benches were for the sitting allotted, benches 
were temporarily laid across the breadth of 
the floor. Another innovation was the 
mustering of Foreign Ministers on the, Front 
Bench below the gangway to the right of the 
Woolsack, where in ordinary times the Bishops 
congregate. In 
addition to ladies 
on the floor 
of the House 
others garlanded 
the long I i ties 
of the side gal- 
leries. The 
Throne, which 
through the 
Session is jea- 
lously draped, 
was uncovered, 
a chair being 
placed to the 
left for the oceu 
pat ion of the 
Prince of Wales. 
The Princess 
of W a 1 e s sat 
on a bench 
at the back 
of the Wool- 
sack facing the 


Throne* When the Queen was seated 
Black Rod was dispatched to bring the 
Com 1110ns. Soon was heard a tramping 
as if once more " armed men marched 
down the glen*" As on the crest of a 
wave the Speaker, the Mace-Bearer, Black 
Rod, and the Chaplain were borne in and 
left stranded at the Bar. Behind them 
stood the Commons, wedged in tight as 
herrings in a barrel, only much more 
restive under the painful conditions. The 
Speech read the Queen, saluting the 
spectators, withdrew, the whole business 
being over within the space of twenty 

In 1S76 there befell an incident 
ominous, which in earlier times might have 

been regarded as ominous. When 
the Queen took her place on the Throne she 
nearly lost the Crown of England. The long 
white strings which fell backward from the 
white cap, familiar in many portraits, caught 
under her dress as she seated herself, jerking 
cap and Crown on one side. Princess 
Beatrice, in watchful attendance, put matters 
right, and, the Lord Great Chamberlain 
humbly arranging a footstool, petite Majesty 
was made moderately comfortable on the 
high chair. 


The most strik- 
ing scene of the 
series was in 
1877, when the 
Queen again 
opened Parlia- 
ment in person. 
The special 
reason for this 
added grace was 
the fact that Mr. 
Disraeli had 
been raised to 
the peerage* On 
a night in the 
summer of 1876 
he, without sign 
of anything un- 
usual being to 
the fore t walked 
out of the House 

by Google 

Original from 



of Commons never more to pact; its floor 
When the Queen entered the House of 
Lords she was always accompanied by one 
peer carrying the Sword of State in front, 
another walking behind bearing the Cap of 
Maintenance. It was known that the first 
Minister of the Crawn s the newly created 
Earl of Beaconsfield, would at the opening 
of the Session of 1877 perform the former 
function. It is not too niuch to say that 
interest in his appearance exceeded even 
that which surged round 
the coming of the Queen. 

Never will fail from 
memory the sight of Dizzy's 
face as T robed in the un- 
accustomed crimson gown, 
slashed with ermine, 
denoting the Earl's rank, 
he marched before the 
Queen, holding aloft a 
sword whose scabbard was 
jewelled after a fashion 
his soul loved One of 
Tenniel's most famous 
cartoons in Punch por- 
trayed Dizzy in the like- 
ness of the Sphinx thai 
looks out across X.Y i 
boundless desert of Egypt. 
That was the expression, 
or t to be precise, the lack 
of expression, he now 
assumed. He was con- 
scious that all eyes were 
bent upon him — by his 
peers on the benches, 
by the Foreign Ministers, 
by the ladies in the gallery, by the 
Commons cooped in at the Bar, probably 
amongst them— who should say? — Mr, Glad- 
stone- With measured pace Dizzy moved 
along, looking neither to the right hand nor 
the left, his countenance inscrutable as the 
carved stone- work in the desert. If he had 
been wound up, interior arrangements of 
springs duly made in order to regulate his 
motion, he could not have advanced with 
more automatic step or with less expression 
on his face. 

The last time the Queen opened 
Parliament was on the 21st of 

HV. MARCHED HH « ikli J he ^L'kfcN 



January, 1886. The circum- 
stances were peculiar. Again, as 
on the three earlier occasions, a Conservative 
Ministry was in office. Lord Beaconsfield 
was dead and Lord Salisbury reigned in 
his stead. He was at the head of what 
Mr. Chamberlain in those 


days called " The Stopgap Government- n 
At the General Election, completed just 
before Christmas, Mr, Gladstone had 
obtained a majority within two of the 
combined forces of Conservatives and 
Irish Nationalists* Instead of forthwith re 
signing, Lord Salisbury elected to meet 
the new Parliament. The Leader of the 
Opposition held the Ministry in the hollow 
of his hand. At any convenient moment 
he might turn them out and take their 
places. The moment was 
seized during debate on 
the Address. Mr. Jesse 
Collings moved the 
amendment known to his- 
tory in connection with 
three acres and a cow. 
On a division the Ministry 
were wofully beaten. 

It was whilst this in- 
evitable blow was pending 
that the Queen paid the 
falling Minister the com- 
pliment of appearing by 
his side on the opening 
day of the Session. Not 
since, though the Con- 
servatives have meanwhile 
enjoyed the longer lease 
of power, has Her Majesty 
been seen in the House 
of Lords. Growing age 
and physical debility would 
have precluded desire 
even had it taken this 
direction* When in order 
for Her Majesty to reach 
the level of the floor of the House of Lords 
the building of a lift would be necessary 
there was an end of further conjecture as 
to her appearance on the opening day. 

Although the Queen's personal 
participation in the business of 
Parliament was thus intermittent 
she up to the end showed the 
keenest interest in its proceed- 
ings. Within the last twenty-five years the 
Parliamentary Summary, the bare skeleton of 
the older fashion more or less picturesquely 
clothed, has become a prominent and attrac- 
tive feature in the morning newspapers. 
The first Parliamentary Summary writer 
was Lord North, some time Leader of the 
House of Commons during the reign of 
George II L At that epoch Parliamentary 
reporting, though considerably advanced 
beyond the stage reached in I)r, Johnson's 
time, was in an elementary condition. It is 
Original from 



' queen's ■ 





doubtful whether King George had his morn- 
ing paper on his breakfast-table. However 
it be, he commanded the Premier to write 
him a letter towards the close of each sitting 
of the House, summarizing the proceedings. 
The practice thus established was observed 
by Lord North's successor, and existed to 
the last day of the nineteenth century. News- 
papers grew and multiplied. Parliamentary 
reports were, on suitable occasion, extended 
the full breadth of a page. Summaries of 
the debate, pictures of the scenes accompany- 
ing it, were prepared for readers who had 
not time or inclination to trudge through the 
long columns of verbatim report. Just the 
same, Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, Sir 
Stafford Northcote, Sir William Harcourt, 
Mr. W. H. Smith, and Mr. Arthur Balfour, 
when the long night was drawing to a close, 
began to write their letter to the Queen, 
presenting a summary of the night's pro- 

A peculiarity of the anachronism 
is that the letter shall be written 
on the Treasury Bench in full 
view of the House. How this 
custom was established is evi- 
dent. In days not more remote than those 
in which Mr. Disraeli lived, the Leader of 
the House of Commons was in his place 
on the Treasury Bench practically from 
the time the Speaker took the Chair till 
the cry, " Who goes home ? " rang in the 
outer lobby. If he had letters to write 
he must pen them there. Accordingly, he 
took a blotting-pad from the table, laid it 
on his knee, and proceeded to write with one 
ear open to the hon. or right hon. gentleman 
at the moment on his legs. 

These letters are bound up with other pages 

of history written by other makers of it, and 

preserved in the library at Windsor Castle. 

Amongst the contributors are Sir Robert 

Peel, Lord John Russell, Lord Palmerston, 

Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, Sir Stafford 

Northcote, Mr. W. H. Smith, Lord Randolph 

Churchill — what a bracketing ! — Sir William 

Harcourt, and Mr. Balfour. Presumably, as 

in the case of Sir Theodore Martin, these 

living records of Parliamentary episodes are, 

by special permission, open to the inspection 

of the historian. Some day, not in ours, 

they may leap into the light of print for the 

delight and instruction of the nation. 

thf th ^ ne °^ P ecu ^ ar interest will be 

of tune f° un( * under date the 9th of 

1 88c ' J une ' l &&5* ^ precision were 

5* observed to the last point it 

would be marked " 2 a.m." On the previous 

by {j 



afternoon the House met for discussion oi 
the Budget introduced by Mr. Childers. Sir 
Michael Hicks -Beach moved an amend- 
ment aimed against the increased duties 
on beer and spirits. He further protested 
against a slight increase of those death duties, 
upon the fuller extension of which by Sir 
William Harcourt he and his colleagues in 
I^ord Salisbury's Fourth Administration are 
able to build ships and marshal armies. For 
some hours the proceedings were dull, 
neither Sir M. Hicks-Beach nor Mr. Childers 
being orators of the class that thrills a 
popular assembly. There was no apprehen- 
sion of a defeat of the Government. The 
Irish members, a well-disciplined body under 
the dictatorship of Mr. Parnell, were, largely 
owing to IvOrd Randolph Churchiirs general- 
ship, in league with the Conservative Party. 
Still, the Ministerial Whips counted upon a 
majority of at least a score. 

For some hours the House was only half 
full and altogether listless. Urgent whips 
were out on both sides. Members trooping 
down after dinner, the aspect of the Chamber 
began to change. Towards midnight a whisper 
went round that the Government were not 
so safe as they reckoned. At ten minutes to 
one, cheered by a n~w crowded and excited 
House, Mr. Gladstone threw himself into the 
fray. He delivered a magnificent speech. 
When at half-past one in the morning he 
resumed his seat the division bell clanged 
through all the rooms and corridors. For a 
while the Premier sat with folded arms and 
flushed brow. Then he suddenly remem- 
bered something. His letter to the Queen ! 

Members were already streaming forth into 
the division lobby. The Premier snatching 
a blotting-pad off the table and taking up a 
square sheet of letter-paper hurried out into 
the lobby and, seating himself at a table in 
one of the recesses, rapidly wrote. The 
passage of the Ministerial host did not afford 
time sufficient to finish the missive. When 
the Leader returned to the House he still 
held the blotting-pad and unfinished letter. 
Then followed the memorable scene watched 
with marvel by the admiring throng. The 
Chamber was full of the bustle and move- 
ment, the excited conversation that preludes 
the announcement of a critical division. It 
was a quarter to two, and members were still 
pouring in from either lobby. Ministers 
on the Treasury Bench and right hon, 
gentlemen on the Front Bench opposite 
anxiously looked for sign of cessation at 
one doorway or the other. Upon the issue 
depended the fate of the Ministry, in degree 

Original from 




the destiny of the Empire. The man most 
nearly concerned, the one with the largest 
personal stake, went on writing, steadily, 
rapidly, as if he were seated in his study 
in the quietness of a summer morning. 

Everyone knew he was 
writing to tell the Queen 
what was taking place 
at the sitting. How far 
in the narrative had he 
got at the moment when, 
amid a buzz of sharjj- 
ened excitement, the 
Ministerial and the 
Opposition Whips were 
observed almost simul- 
taneously making their 
way through the crowds 
on either hand? Evi- 
dently it was a neck-and- 
neck race, Which had 
won ? No one could 
know till, the tellers 
having handed their re- 
cord of figures to the 
Clerk standing at the 
end of the table, he, on 
com pa ri ng them, would 
hand the paper back to 
the Whip whose forces 
were in the majority. 

A loud shout of triumph 
broke the moment's still- 
ness. Mr. Gladstone 
looked up from his blotting pad and saw Lord 
Randolph Churchill standing on his seat at 
the corner bench below the gangway wildly 
waving his hat. The Clerk had handed t he- 
paper to Mr. Rowland Winn, the Opposition 
Whip. Sir M. Hicks- 
Beach's amendment had 
been carried, and the 
Government, defeated on 
iheir Budget scheme, 
must needs resign. 

Mr. Gladstone's letter 
was not finished yet. He 
had at least to add the 
figures of the division, 
notifying to Her Majesty 
the momentous fact that 
her Ministers had been 
routed. He went on 
quietly writing while the 
Clerk ran through the 
Orders of the Day. 
Then, with the letter 
and blotting - pad in 
his left hand, the 






pen in his right, he quietly moved 
the adjournment of the House — a 
step preparatory in such circumstances 
to announcement on the following day 
of the resignation of Ministers, 

It is pro- 

hable that 

with a new 

century and 

a new King 

the leader of the House 

of Commons may be 

relieved from this archaic 

duty. Even in ordinary 

times it imposes useless 

labour on an overworked 

Minister. In epical 

epochs, such as that just 

described, it fulfils the 

function of the proverbial 

last straw. 

King Edward VI I. 
comes into hrs new 
estate with an intimate 
personal knowledge of 
Parliamentary 1 i f e 
possessed by none of his 
[ >r ed e t : essors . For fully 
twenty- five years it has 
had a powerful fascina- 
tion for him. For ten 
years following 1875 it 
was the House of Com- 
mons that proved the 
more attractive for the Prince of Wales, 
During the turbulent times of Irish obstruc- 
tion, varied by Mr + Bradlaugh's incursions, 
his pleasant presence viewing the scene from 
the seat over the clock in the Peers' Gallery 
was almost nightly 

He was seated there 
when Mr. B i g g a r 
achieved a Parliamentary 
feat, exceeding even his 
memorable performanci- 
when, with the assistance 
of a Blue-book, he made 
a speech four hours long 
by Westminster clock. 
It was on a Wednesday 
afternoon in the early 
part of the Session of 
1875. Mr. Chaplin had 
secured the first place on 
the Orders for a motion 
dealing with the breed of 
horses. It excited a good 
deal of interest in the 

"he: went on queti.y iv»iTt*c 

f^rtj^M/-- Original from 


2 78 


neighbourhood of Epsom and Newmarket. 
The Prince of Wales came down to hear the 
debate, accompanied by a retinue of peers. 
Among other strangers in the diplomatic 
gallery was the German Ambassador 

It was a great day for Mr. Chaplin, and he 
was prepared to fill it. Called on by the 
Speaker, he rose, produced with a flourish 
from his breast-pocket a roll of manuscript, 
fixed his eye-glass, complacently surveyed 
the crowd of listeners, and said, (i Mr. 
Speaker" That was 
as far as his speech 
went at this particular 
stage. From the 
Benches below the 
gang wa y immediately 
opposite a shrill voice 
was heard, exclaiming, 
" Mr. Speaker, sir, I 
believe there are stran- 
gers in the House/' 
The Speaker went as 
far as was possible to 
him to evade noticing 
the interruption. But 
Mr* Biggar was master 
of the situation, and 
few human faces offer 
an opening exceeding 
the breadth of his smile 
as he surveyed it. 

At that time there was in operation the 
ancient order of a House jealous of its 
privileged sanctity that upon any member, 
however insignificant, calling attention to 
the presence of strangers the Speaker must 
forthwith, without question put, order their 
withdrawal. There was nothing for it but 
that the Prince of Wales, the representative 
of the German Emperor, the belted earls and 
barons in the Peers* Gallery, should file 
forth at the bidding of a gentleman who, 
when not assisting in the Government of the 
Empire, was engaged in the pork and bacon 
business in Belfast* 

Of late years, the House of 









Commons falling upon dull 
times, the Prince of Wales was 
rarely seen in the gallery. But 
he was the more constant in his 
attendance on the business of his own House. 
Whenever an important debate came on in 
the Lords His Royal Highness was sure to 

be found at the corner seat of the Front 
Cross Bench. That is a quarter naturally 
resorted to by peers of judicial mind. Hence 
Lord Wemyss affects it, from time to time 
delivering tremendous tirades from the bench 
immediately behind that on which the Prince 
of Wales and the Royal Dukes siL 

The Prince of Wales absolutely 
preserved the character of what 
Lord Granville happily desig- 
the Cross Bench mind. 
He took no part in 
debate, and, with one 
exception, abstained 
from the division lobby* 
The exception was found 
on occasions when 
the Deceased Wife's 
Sisters Bill came 
to the fore. The 
Prince of Wales fre~ 
quently presented peti- 
tions in favour of the 
measure. When the 
motion for its second 
reading was divided 
upon he invariably 
went out in the lobby 
in support of it, count- 
ing as an item in the 
number of peers who 
vote " content" 
We shall probably never again see in the 
House of Commons the once familiar figure 
whose presence used to brighten the Peers' 
Gallery, Last time a King of England 
entered the House of Commons was on 
the 4th of January* 1642. William Lent- 
hnll was in the Chair, and Charles L's 
interview with the Speaker was not 
so satisfactory that His Majesty showed 
desire to revisit the scene. The Cross 
Bench in the Lords will never again 
be occupied by the illustrious person 
who is now King of Great Britain and 
Emperor of India. But Edward VIL is not 
likely to cut himself entirely adrift from the 
scenes and associations which for a quarter 
of a century drew him to Westminster as 
with a magnet. It is probable that for many 
Sessions to come tlv- barren ceremony of 
opening Parliament by Royal Commission 
will pive place to the transformation wrought 
by the living presence of the King. 

by Google 

Original from 

The First Men in the Moon. 

By H. G. Wells. 




OR a time neither of us spoke. 
To focus together all the 
things we had brought upon 
ourselves seemed beyond my 
mental powers. 

" They've got us," I said 
at last. 

"It was that fungus." 

" Well, if I hadn't taken it we should have 
fainted and starved." 

" We might have found the sphere." 

I lost my temper at his persistence and 
swore to myself. For a time we hated one 
another in silence. I drummed with my 
fingers on the floor between my knees and 
gritted the links of my fetters together. 
Presently I was forced to talk again. 

" What do you make of it, anyhow ? " I 
asked humbly. 

" They are reasonable creatures — they can 
make things and do things. Those lights 
we saw . . . . " 

He stopped. It was clear he could make 
nothing of it. 

When he spoke again it was to confess. 
"After all, they are more human than we 
had a right to expect. I suppose " 

He stopped, irritatingly. 


" I suppose, anyhow — on any planet, where 
there is an intelligent animal, it will carry its 
brain case upward, and have hands and walk 
erect. ..." 

Presently he broke away in another 

"We are some way in," he said. " I 
mean — perhaps a couple of thousand feet or 

" Why ? " 

" It's cooler. And our voices are so much 
louder. That faded quality — it has altogether 
gone. And the feeling in one's ears and 

I had not noted that, but I did now. 

" The air is denser. We must be some 
depth — a mile even we may be — inside the 


" We never thought of a world inside the 

44 No." 

44 How could we? " 

44 We might have done. Only one 

gets into habits of mind." 

He thought for a time. 

"JVbw" he said, " it seems such an obvious 
thing. Of course ! The moon must be 
enormously cavernous with an atmosphere 
within, and at the centre of its caverns a sea. 
One knew that the moon had a lower specific 
gravity than the earth ; one knew that it had 
little air or water outside ; one knew, too, 
that it was sister planet to the earth and that 
it was unaccountable that it should be 
different in composition. The inference that 
it was hollowed out was as clear as day. 
And yet one never saw it as a fact. Kepler, 

of course " His voice had the interest 

now of a man who has discovered a pretty 
sequence of reasoning. 

44 Yes," he said, " Kepler, with his sub- 
vo/vant\ was right after all." 

44 1 wish you had taken the trouble to find 
that out before we came," I said. 

He answered nothing, buzzing to himself 
softly as he pursued his thoughts. My 
temper was going. " What do you think has 
become of the sphere, anyhow ? " I asked. 

44 Lost," he said, like a man who answers 
an uninteresting question. 

44 Among those plants ? " 

44 Unless they find it." 

"And then?" 

44 How can I tell ? " 

"Cavor," I said, with a sort of hysterical 
bitterness, " things look bright for my 
Company . . . ." 

He made no answer. 

44 Good Lord !" I exclaimed. "Just think of 
all the trouble we took to get into this pickle ! 
What did we come for ? What are we after ? 
What was the moon to us, or we to the 
moon ? We wanted too much, we tried 
too much. We ought to have started the 
little things first. It was you proposed the 
moon ! Those Cavorite spring blinds ! I 
am certain we could have worked them for 

Copyright, by H. G. Wells, in the United States of America, iqoo. 

by LiOOglC 

a I I I '.' I 1 1 




terrestrial purposes. Certain ! Did you 
really understand what I proposed ? A steel 
cylinder " 

" Rubbish !'\said Cavor. 

We ceased to converse. 

For a time Cavor kept up a broken mono- 
logue without much help from me. 

" If they find it," he began ; " if they find 
it. . . . what will they do with it? Well, 
that's a question ! It may be that's the 
question. They won't understand it, anyhow. 
If they understood that sort of thing they 
would have come long since to the earth. 
Would they? Why shouldn't they? But 
they would have sent 

something They 

couldn't keep their hands 
off such a possibility. 
No! But they will 
examine it. Clearly they 
are intelligent and in- 
quisitive. They will 
examine it — get inside 
it— trifle with the studs. 
Off! . . . That 
mean the moon 
for all the rest of 
our lives. Strange 
creatures, strange 
knowledge . . . ." 

" As for strange 

knowledge ! " 

said I, and lan- 
guage failed 

"Look here, 
Bedford," said 
Cavor. "You 
came on this ex- 
pedition of your 
own free will." 

" You said to 
me — 'call it 

for us 

it knocks you to pieces in some unexpected 
way. Old passions and new weapons— 
now it upsets your religion, now it upsets 
your social ideas, now it whirls you off to 
desolation and misery ! 

"Anyhow, it's no use your quarrelling 
with me now. These creatures — these 
Selenites — or whatever we choose to call 
them, have got us tied hand and foot. 
Whatever temper you choose to go through 
with it in, you will have to go through with 
it ... . We have experiences before us 
that will need all our coolness." 

He paused as if he required my assent. 

But I sat sulking. 
" Confound your 
Science !" I said. 
" The problem 
is communication. 
Gestures, I fear, 
will be different. 
Pointing, for ex- 
ample. No crea- 
tures but men and 
monkeys point." 

That was too 
obviously wrong 
for me. " Pretty 
nearly every 

" points 

I cried, 
with its 



"There's always risks in prospecting." 

" Especially when you do it unarmed and 
without thinking out every possibility." 

" 1 was so taken up with the sphere. The 
thing rushed on us and carried us away." 

" Rushed on me> you mean." 

" Rushed on me just as much. How was 
/ to know when I set to work on molecular 
physics that the business would bring me 
here— of all places ? " 

" It's this accursed Science," I cried. 

" It's the very Devil. The mediaeval priests 
and persecutors were right, and the Moderns 
are all wrong. You tamper with it and it 
offers you gills. And directly you take them 

by Google 

eyes or nose. 

Cavor medita- 
ted over that. 
11 Yes," he said 
at last, "and we 
don't. There's 
such differences ! 
Such differences ! 
"One might 
.... But how 
can I tell? There- 
is speech. The 
sounds they make, 
a sort of fluting and piping. I don't see how 
we are to imitate that. Is it their speech, 
that sort of thing ? They may have 
different senses, different means of communi- 
cation. Of course they are minds and 
we are minds— there must be something in 
common. Who knows how far we may not 
get to an understanding ? " 

" The things are outside us," I said. 
" They're more different from us than the 
strangest animals on earth. They are a 
different clay. What is the good of talking 
like this?" 

Cavor thought. " I don't see that. Where 
there are minds, they will have something 

Original from 



similar — even though they have been evolved 
on different planets. Of course, if it was a 
question of instinct — if we or they were no 
more than animals " 

" Well, are they ? They're much more 
like ants on their hind legs than human 
beings, and who ever got to any sort of 
understanding with ants ? " 

11 But these machines and clothing ! No, 
I don't hold with you, Bedford. The differ- 
ence is wide " 

"It's insurmountable." 

"The resemblance must bridge it. I 
remember reading once a paper by the 
late Professor Galton on the possibility of 
communication between the planets. Un- 
happily at that time it did not seem probable 
that that would be of any material benefit to 
me, and I fear I did not give it the attention 
I should have done — in view of this state of 
affairs. Yet . . . Now, let me see ! 

11 His idea was to begin with those broad 
truths that must underlie all conceivable 
mental existences and establish a basis on 
those. The great principles of geometry, to 
begin with. He proposed to take some lead- 
ing proposition of Euclid's, and show by con- 
struction that its truth was known to us ; to 
demonstrate, for example, that the angles at 
the base of an isosceles triangle are equal, 
and that if the equal sides be produced the 
angles on the other side of the base are 
equal also ; or that the square on the hypo- 
tenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to 
the sum of the squares on the two other 
sides. By demonstrating our knowledge of 
these things we should demonstrate pur pos- 
session of a reasonable intelligence. . . . 
Now, suppose I ... I might draw the 
geometrical figure with a wet finger or even 
trace it in the air . . . " 

He fell silent. I sat meditating his 
words. For a time his wild hope of com- 
munication, of interpretation with these weird 
beings, held me. Then that angry despair 
that was a part of my exhaustion and physical 
misery resumed its sway. I perceived with 
a sudden novel vividness the extraordinary 
folly of everything I had ever done. " Ass ! " 
I said, " Oh, ass, unutterable ass ... I 
seem to exist only to go about doing pre- 
posterous things. . . . Why did we ever 
leave the thing ? . . . Hopping about look- 
ing for patents and concessions in the craters 
of the moon ! .• . . If only we had had the 
sense to fasten a handkerchief to a stick to 
show where we had left the sphere ! " 

I subsided, fuming. 

" It is clear," meditated Cavor, " they are 

Vol xxi.-36 \ J t 

intelligent. One can hypotheticate certain 
things. As they have not killed us at once 
they must have ideas of mercy. Mercy ! 
At any rate of restraint. Possibly of inter- 
course. They may meet us. And this 
apartment and the glimpses we had of its 
guardian. These fetters ! A high degree 
of intelligence. ..." 

" I wish to Heaven," cried I, " I'd thought 
even twice ! Plunge after plunge. First 
one fluky start and then another. It was 
my confidence in you. Why didn't I stick 
to my play? That was what I was equal to. 
That was my world and the life I was made 
for. I could have finished that play. I'm 
certain .... it was a good play. I had 
the scenario as good as done. Then .... 
Conceive it ! Leaping to the moon ! Practi- 
cally—I've thrown my life away ! That old 
woman in the inn near Canterbury had 
better sense." 

I looked up, and stopped in mid-sentence. 
The darkness had given place to that bluish 
light again. The door was opening, and 
several noiseless Selenites were coming into 
the chamber. I became quite still, staring 
at the chitinous impassiveness of their faces. 

Then suddenly my sense of disagreeable 
strangeness changed to interest. I perceived 
that the foremost and second carried bowls. 
One elemental need at least our minds could 
understand in common. They were bowls 
of some metal that, like our fetters, looked 
dark in that bluish light ; and each contained 
a number of whitish fragments. All the 
cloudy pain and misery that oppressed me 
rushed together and took the shape of 
hunger. I eyed these bowls wolfishly, and, 
though it returned to me 1 -..jams, at that 
time it seemed a small matter that at the end 
of the arms that lowered one towards me 
were not hands, but a sort of flap and thumb, 
like the end of an elephant's trunk. 

The stuff in the bowl was loose in texture 
and whitish-brown in colour— rather like 
lumps of some cold souffle, and it smelt 
faintly like mushrooms. From a partially- 
divided carcass of a mooncalf that we 
presently saw I am inclined to believe 
it must have been mooncalf flesh. 

My hands were so tightly chained that I 
could barely contrive to reach the bowl, but 
when they saw the effort I made two of them 
dexterously released one of the turns about 
my wrist. Their tentacle hands were soft 
and cold to my skin. I immediately seized 
a mouthful of the food. It had the same 
laxness in texture that all organic structures 
seem to have upon the moon ; it tasted 




rather like a gauffrt, or a damp meringue, but 
in no way was it disagreeable- I took two 
Other mouthfuk "I wanted foo' ! " said I, 

tearing off a still larger piece 

For a time we ate with an utter absence of 
ness. We ate and 
presently drank 
like tramps in a 
soup kitchen. 
Never before, 
nor since, have 
I been hungry 
to the ravenous 
pitch, and save 
that I have had 
this very experi- 
ence I could 
never have be- 
lieved that a 
quarter of a 
million of miles 
out of our pro- 
per world, in 
utter perplexity 
of soul, sur- 
rnunded, watch- 
ed, touched by 
beings more 
grotesque and 
inhuman than 
the worst crea- 
tures of a night- 
mare, it would 
be possible for 
me to eat in 
utter forgetful- 
ness of all these 
things. Th j - 
stood about us, 
watching us, 
and ever and 
again making 
a slight elusive 
twittering that 
stood them, I 
suppose, in the 
stead of speech. 
I did not even 
shiver at their 
touch. And when 
the first zeal of 

my feeding was over I could note that 
Cavor too had been eating with the same 
shameless abandon. 



When at List we had made an end of 


eating the Selenites linked our hands closely 
together again, and then untwisted the 
chains about our feet and rebound them, so 
;is to give us a limited freedom of movement* 
Then they unfastened the chains about our 

waists. To do 
all this they had 
to handle us 
freely, and ever 
and again one of 
their queer heads 
came down close 
to my face j or a 
soft tentacle- 
hand touehedmy 
head or nee L I 
don't remember 
that I was afraid 
then or repelled 
by their proxim- 
ity, I think that 
our incurable an- 
made us imagine 
there were 
human heads in- 
side these crusta- 
cean masks. The 
skin, like every- 
thing else, looked 
bluish, but that 
was on account 
of the light, and 
it was hard and 
shiny, quite in 
the beetle-wing 
fashion, not soft 
or moist or hairy 
as a vertebra ted 
animal's would 
he* Along the 
crest of the head 
was a low ridge 
of whitish spines 
running from 
back to front, 
and a much 
larger ridge 
curved on either 
side over the 
eyes. The 
Selenite who 
untied me used his mouth to help his hands. 
"They seem to be releasing us,*' said 
Cavor. li Remember, we are on the moon ! 
Make no sudden movements ! ?J 

M Are you going to try that geometry ? " 
11 If I get a chance. But, of course, they 
may make an advance first." 






We remained passive, and the Selenites 
having finished their arrangements stood 
back from us, and seemed to be looking at 
us. I say seemed to be, because as their 
eyes were at the side and not in front one 
had the same difficulty in determining the 
direction in which they were looking as one 
has in the case of a hen or a fish. They 
conversed with one another in their reedy 
tones that seemed to me impossible to imi- 
tate or define, The door behind us opened 
wider, and glancing over my shoulder I saw 
a vague large space beyond in which quite a 
little crowd of Selenites were standing. 

* £ Do they want us to imitate those 
sounds ? " I asked Cavor. 

" I don't think so/' he said, 

"It seems to me that they are trying to 
make us understand something." 

U I can't make anything of their gestures. Do 
you notice this one, who is worrying with his 
head like a man with an uncomfortable col lar?" 

" Let us shake our heads at him/* 

We did that, and finding it ineffectual, 
attempted an imitation of the Selenite's 
movements. That seemed to interest them. 
At any rate, they all set up the same move^ 
ment But as that seemed to lead to 
nothing we desisted at last, and so did they, 
and fell into a piping argument among them- 
selves. Then one of them, a little shorter 

Digitized by G< 

and thicker than the other, and with a 
particularly wide mouth, squatted down 
suddenly beside Cavor, and put his hands 
and feet in the same posture as Cavort were 
bound, and then by a dexterous movement 
stood up. 

"Cavor," I shouted, "they want us to 
get up I " 

He stared open-mouthed. "That's it!" 
he said. 

And with much heaving and grunting, 

because our hands were tied together, we 

contrived to struggle to our feet. The 

Selenites made way for our elephantine 

heavingSj and seemed to twitter more volubly. 

As soon as we were on our feet the thick-set 

Selenite came and patted each of our faces 

with his tentacles, and walked towards the 

open doorway. That also was plain enough, 

and we followed him* We saw that four of 

the Selenites standing in the doorway were 

taller than the others, and clothed in the 

Me manner as those we had seen in the 

crater, namely, with spiked, round helmets 

and cylindrical body-cases, and that each of 

the four carried a goad, with spike and guard 

made of that same dull-looking metal as the 

bowls, These four closed about us, one on 

either side of each of us, as we emerged from 

our chamber into the cavern from which the 

light had come. 
& urigmal from 




We did not get our impression of that 
cavern all at once. Our attention was taken 
up by the movements and attitudes of the 
Selenites immediately about us, and by the 
necessity of controlling our motion, lest we 
should startle and alarm them and ourselves 
by some excessive stride. In front of us was 
the short, thick-set being who had solved the 
problem of asking us to get up, moving with 
gestures that seemed, almost all of them, 
intelligible to us, inviting us to follow him. 
His spout-like face turned from one of us to 
the other with a quickness that was clearly 
interrogative. For a time, I say, we were 
taken up with these things. 

But at last the great place that formed a 
background to our movements asserted itself. 
It became apparent that the source of much 
at least of the tumult of sounds which had 
filled our ears ever since we had recovered 
from the stupefaction of the fungus was a 
vast mass of machinery in active movement, 
whose flying and whirling parts were visible 
indistinctly over the heads and between the 
bodies of the Selenites who walked about us. 
And not only did the web of sounds that 
filled the air proceed from this mechanism, 
but also the peculiar blue light that irradiated 
the whole place. We had taken it as a 
natural thing that a subterranean cavern 
should be artificially lit, and even now, 
though the fact was patent to my eyes, I 
did not really grasp its import until pre- 
sently the darkness came. The meaning 
and structure of this huge apparatus we 
saw I cannot explain, because we neither 
of us learnt what it was for or how it 
worked. One after another, big shafts 
of metal flung out and up from its 
centre, their heads travelling in what 
seemed to me to be a parabolic path ; each 
dropped a sort of dangling arm as it rose 
towards the apex of its flight and plunged 
down into a vertical cylinder, forcing this 
down before it. And as each of these arms 
plunged down there was a clank and then a 
roaring, and out of the top of the vertical 
cylinder came pouring this incandescent 
substance, that lit the place and ran over as 
milk runs over a boiling pot and dripped 
luminously into a tank of light below. It 
was a cold blue light, a sort of phosphorescent 
glow, but infinitely brighter, and from the 
tanks into which it fell it ran in conduits 
athwart the cavern. 

Thud, thud, thud, thud, came the sweeping 
arms of this unintelligible apparatus, and the 
light substance hissed and poured. At first 
the thing seemed only reasonably large and 

near to us ; and then I saw how exceedingly 
little the Selenites upon it seemed, and I 
realized the fujl immensity of cavern and 
machine. I looked from this tremendous 
affair to the faces of the Selenites with a new 
respect I stopped, and Cavor stopped, and 
stared at this thunderous engine. 

" But this is stupendous ! " I said. " What 
can it be for?" 

Cavor's blue-lit face was full of an intelli- 
gent respect. " I can't dream ! Surely these 

beings . Men could not make a thing 

like that ! Look at those arms : are they on 
connecting rods?" 

The thick-set Selenite had gone some 
paces unheeded. He came back and stood 
between us and the great machine. I avoided 
seeing him, because I guessed somehow that 
his idea was to beckon us onward. He 
walked away in the direction he wished us to 
go, and turned and came back, and flifcked 
our faces to attract our attention. 

Cavor and I looked at one another. 

" Can not 'we show him we are interested in 
the machine? " I said. 

" Yes," said Cavor. " We'll ti> "that." He 
turned to our guide, and smiled, and pointed 
to the machine, and pointed again, and then 
to his- head, and then to the machine. By 
some defect of reasoning he seemed to 
imagine that broken English might help 
these gestures. " Me look 4m, " he said ; 
" me think 'im very much. Yes." 

His behaviour seemed to check the 
Selenites in their desire for our progress for 
a moment. They faced one another, their 
queer heads moved, the twittering voices 
came quick and liquid. Then one of them, 
a lean, tall creature, with a sort of mantle 
added to the puttee in which the others 
were dressed, twisted his elephant trunk of 
a hand about Cavor's waist, and pulled him 
gently to follow our guide, who again went 
on ahead. 

Cavor resisted. "We may just as well 
begin explaining ourselves now ! They may 
think we are new animals, a new sort of 
mooncalf, perhaps ! It is most important 
that we should show an intelligent interest 
from the outset." 

He began to shake his head violently. 
" No, no," he said; "me not come on one 
minute. Me look at 'im." 

" Isn't there some geometrical point you 
might bring in apropos of that affair?" 
I suggested, as the Selenites conferred 

"Possibly a parabolic " he began. He 

yelled loudly and leaped sfix feet or more ! 




One of the four armed moon-men had 
pricked him with a goad ! 

I turned on the goad-hearer behind me 
with a swift, threatening gesture and he 
started back. This and Cavor's sudden 
shout and leap clearly astonished all the 
Selenites, They receded hastily, facing us 
with their stupid, unchanging stare. For one 
of those moments that seem to last for ever 



Just for a moment that hostile pause 
endured, I suppose that both we and the 
Selenites did some very rapid thinking. My 
clearest impression was that there was nothing 
to put my back against and that we were 
bound to be surrounded and killed. The 
overwhelming folly of our presence there 


we stood in angry protest, with a scattered 
semi-circle of these inhuman beings about us. 

II He pricked me!" said Cavor, with a 
catching of the voice, 

II I saw him," I answered, 

"Confound it!" I said to the Selenites ; 
"we're not going to stand that! What on 
earth do you take us for?" 

I glanced quickly right and left. Far 
away across the blue wilderness of cavern I 
saw a number of other Selenites running 
towards us. The cavern spread wide and 
low, and receded in every direction into 
darkness. Its roof, I remember, seemed to 
bulge down as if with the weight of the vast 
thickness of rocks that prisoned us. There 
was no way out of it— no way out of it 
Above, below, in every direction, was the 
unknown, and these inhuman creatures w r ith 
goads and gestures confronting us, and we 
two unsupported men ! 

loomed over me in black, enormous reproach. 
Why had I ever launched myself on this 
mad, inhuman expedition ? 

Cavor came to my side and laid his hand 
on my arm. His pale and terrified face was 
ghastly in the blue light 

4t We can't do anything," he said, " It's 
a mistake. They don't understand. We 
must go — as they want us to go." 

I looked down at him t and then at the 
fresh Selenites who were coming to help their 
fellows. M If I had my hands free " 

"It's no use," he panted. 

" No." 

"We'll go." 

And he turned about and led the way in 
the direction that had been indicated for u>. 

I folio wed ? trying to look as subdued as 
possible, and feeling at the chains about my 
wrists. My blood was boiling. I noted 
nothing more of that cavern, though it 




seemed to take a long time before we had 
marched across it, or if I noted anything I 
forgot it as I saw it My thoughts were 
concentrated, I think, upon my chains and 
the Selenites, and particularly upon the 
hel meted ones with the goads. At first they 
marched parallel with us, and at a respectful 
distance s but presently they were overtaken 
by three others, and then they drew nearer 
until they were within arms 3 length again. 
I winced like a spurred horse as they came 
near to us. The shorter, thicker Selenite 
marched at first on our right flank, but 
presently caine in front of us again. 

How well the picture of that grouping has 
bitten into my brain: the back of Cavor's 
downcast head just in front of me, and the 
dejected droop of his shoulders, and our 
guide's gaping visage, perpetually jerking 

Clang, clang, clang, we passed right under 
the thumping levers of another vast machine, 
and so came at last to a wide tunnel, in which 
we could even hear the pad, pad of our 
shoeless feet, and which, save for the trickling 
thread of blue to the right of us, was quite 
unlit The shadows made gigantic travesties 
of our shapes and those of the Selenites on 
the irregular wall and roof of the tunnel. 
Ever and again crystals in the walls of the 
tunnel scintillated like gems, ever and again 
the tunnel expanded into a stalactitic cavern, 
or gave off branches that vanished into dark- 

We seemed to be marching down that 
tunnel for a long time. "Trickle, trickle," 
went the flowing light very softly, and our 
footfalls and their echoes made an irregular 
paddle, paddle. My mind settled dow T n to 


about him, and the goad- hearers on either 
side, watchful yet open-mouthed — a blue 
monochrome. And after all, I do remember 
one other thing besides the purely personal 
affair, which is that a sort of gutter came 
presently across the floor of the cavern and 
then ran along by the side of the path of rock 
we followed. And it was full of that same 
bright blue luminous stuff that flowed out of 
the great machine I walked close beside it, 
and I can testify it radiated not a particle of 
heat It was brightly shining, and yet it was 
neither warmer nor colder than anything else 
in the cavern. 


the question of my chains. If I were to slip 
off one turn so, and then to twist it so. . . . 

If I tried to do it very gradually, would 
they see I was slipping my wrist out of the 
looser turn ? If they did, what would they do ? 

u Bedford/' said Cavor, " it goes down. It 
keeps on going down," 

His remark roused me from my sullen pre- 

"If they wanted to kill us/' he said, 
dropping back to come level with me, " there 
is no reason why they should not have done it/' 

" No/' I admitted ; u that's true." 

"They don't understand us," he said; 




"they think we are merely strange animals, 
some wild sort of mooncalf birth, perhaps. 
It will be only when they have observed us 
better that they will begin to think we have 
minds " 

" When you trace those geometrical prob- 
lems ? " said I. 

" It may be that" 

We tramped on for a space. 

"You see," said Cavor, "these may be 
Selenites of a lower class." 

"The infernal fools," said I, viciously, 
glancing at their exasperating faces. 

" If we endure what they do to us " 

" We've got to endure it," said I. 

" There may be others less stupid. This 
is the mere outer fringe of their world. It 
must go down and down, cavern, passage, 
tunnel, down at last to the sea — hundreds of 
miles below. 

His words made me think of the mile or 
so of rock and tunnel that might be over our 
heads already. It was like a weight dropping 
on my shoulders. "Away from the sun and 
air," I said. " Even a mine half a mile deep 
is stuffy." 

" This is not — anyhow. It's probable 

Ventilation ! The air would blow from the 
dark side of the moon to the sunlit, and all 
the carbonic acid would well out there and 
feed those plants. Up this tunnel, for 
example — there is quite a breeze. And what 
a world it must be ! The earnest we have in 
that shaft, and those machines " 

"And the goad," I said. "Don't forget 
the goad ! " 

He walked a little in front of me for a 

" Even that goad " he said. 

" Well ? " 

"I was angry at the time. But it 

was perhaps necessary we should get on. 
They have different skins and probably 
different nerves. They may not understand 
our objection — just as a being from Mars 
might not like our earthly habit of nudging." 

" They'd better be careful how they nudge 

"And about that geometry. After all, 
their way is a way of understanding too. 
They begin with the elements of life and not 
of thought. Food. Compulsion. Pain. 
They strike at fundamentals." 

" There's no doubt about that" I said. 

He went on to talk of the enormous and 
wonderful world into which we were being 
taken. I realized slowly from his tone that 
even now he was not absolutely in despair 
at the prospect of going ever deeper into this 

Digitized by V^OOglC 

inhuman planet burrow. His mind ran on 
machines and invention to the exclusion of a 
thousand dark things that beset me. It 
wasn't that he intended to make any use of 
these things : he simply wanted to know 

" After all," he said, " this is a tremendous 
occasion. It is the meeting of two worlds. 
What are we going to see? Think of what 
is below us here." 

"We sha'n't see much if the light isn't 
better," I remarked. 

"This is only the outer crust. Down 

below . On this scale . There will 

be everything. The story we shall take 
back ! " 

"Some rare sort of animal," I said, "might 
comfort himself in that way while they were 
bringing him to the Zoo. ... It doesn't 
follow that we are going to be shown all these 

" When they find we have reasonable 
minds," said Cavor, " they will want to learn 
about the earth. Even if they have no 
generous emotions they will teach in order to 
learn. . . . And the things they must 
know ! The unanticipated things ! " 

He went on to speculate on the possibility 
of their knowing things he had never hoped 
to learn on earth, speculating in that way, 
with a raw wound from that goad already in 
his skin ! Much that he said I forget, for 
my attention was drawn to the fact that the 
tunnel along which we had been marching 
was opening out wider and wider. We 
seemed from the feeling of the air to be 
going out into a huge space. But how big 
the space might really be we could not tell, 
because it was unlit. Our little stream of 
light ran in a dwindling thread and vanished 
far ahead. Presently the rocky walls had 
vanished altogether on either hand. There 
was nothing to be seen but the path in front 
of us and the trickling, hurrying rivulet of blue 
phosphorescence. The figures of Cavor and 
the guiding Selenite marched before me ; 
the sides of their legs and heads that were 
towards the rivulet were clear and bright 
blue ; their darkened sides, now that the re- 
flection of the tunnel wall no longer lit them, 
merged indistinguishably in the darkness 

And soon I perceived that we were 
approaching a declivity of some sort, because 
the little blue stream dipped suddenly out 
of sight. 

In another moment, as it seemed, we had 
•reached the edge. The shining stream gave 
one meander of hesitation and then rushed 

■-■I I i-fll lal I I "* 




over It fell to a depth at which the sound 
of its descent was absolutely lost to us. And 
the darkness it dropped out of became utterly 
void and black, save that a thing like a 
plank projected from the edge of the cliff 
and stretched out and faded and vanished 

For a moment I and Cavor stood as near 
the edge as we dared peering into an inky 
profundity. And then our guide was pulling 
at my arm. 

Then he left me and walked to the end of 
that plank and stepped upon it, looking back, 
Then when he perceived we watched him he 
turned about and went on along it, walking 
as surely as though he was on firm earth. 
For a moment his form was distinct, then he 
became a blue blur, and then vanished into 
the obscurity. 

There was a pause. " Surely ! " said 


One of the other Selenites walked a few 
paces out upon the plank and turned and 
looked back at us unconcernedly. The 
others stood ready to follow after us- Our 
guide's expectant gape reappeared. He was 
returning to see why we had not advanced* 

"We can't cross that at any price," said L 

" 1 could not go three steps on it 
Cavor, * l even with my hands free," 

We looked at 
each other's 
drawn faces in 
blank consterna- 

"They can't 
know what it is 
to be giddy," said 

" It's quite im- 
possible for us to 
walk that plank." 

"I don't believe 
they see as we do + 
I've been watch - 
i ng them. I 
wonder if they 
know this is sim- 
ply blackness for 
us. How can we 
make them under- 
stand ? ,T 

" Anyhow, we 
must make them 

I think we said 
these things with 
a vague, half hope 
ihe Selenites 

might somehow understand. 1 knew quite 

clearly that all that was needed was an explana^ 
tion, Then, as I saw their blank faces, I 
realized that an explanation was impossible. 
Just here it was that our resemblances were 
not going to bridge our differences. Well, I 
wasn't going to walk the plank anyhow, I 
slipped my wrist very quickly out of the coil 
or chain that was loose, and then began to 
twist my wrists in opposite directions. I was 
standing nearest to the bridge, and as I did 
this two of the Selenites laid hold of me and 
pulled me gently towards it. 

I shook my head violently, "No go, tp I 
said, " no use. You don't understand." 

Another Selenite added his compulsion. I 
was forced to step forward. 

" Look here ! tT I exclaimed, " Steady on ! 
Irs all very well for you " 

1 sprang round upon my heel : I burst 
out into curses. For one of the armed 
Selenites had stabbed me behind with his 

I wrenched my wrists free from the little 
tentacles that held them, I turned on the 
goad -bearer. "Confound you!" I cried. 
" I've warned you of that. What on earth do 
you think I'm made of, to stick that into me? 
If you touch me again ! y * 

By way of answer he pricked me forthwith, 


h* *MA$HfiD LiKWWt&di from 




I heard Caver's voice in alarm and entreaty. 
Even then I think he wanted to compromise 
with these creatures. But the sting of that 
second stab seemed to set free some pent-up 
reserve of energy in my being. Instantly a 
link of the wrist chain snapped, and with 
it snapped all considerations that had held us 
unresisting in the hands of these moon- 
creatures. For that second, at least, I was 
mad with fear and anger. I took no thought 
of consequences. I hit straight out, at the 
face of the thing with the goad. The chain 
was twisted round my fist. . % ; . . 

There came another of those beastly sur- 
prises of which the moon world is full. 

My mailed hand seemed to go clean 
through him. He smashed like an egg. It 
was like hitting one of those hard sweets that 
have liquid inside. It broke right in, and 
the flimsy body went spinning a dozen yards 
and fell with a flabby impact. I was 
astonished. I was incredulous that any 
living thing could be so flimsy. For an 
instant I could have believed the whole 
thing a dream. 

Then it had become real and imminent 
again. Neither Cavor nor the other Selenites 
seemed to have done anything from the time 
when I had turned about to the time when 
the dead Selenite hit the ground. Everyone 
stood back from us two, everyone alert. That 
arrest seemed to last at least a second after 
the Selenite was down. Everyone must have 
been taking the thing in. I seem to remem- 
ber myself standing with my arm half 
retracted, trying also to take it in. " What 
next ? " clamoured my brain ; " what next ? " 
Then in a moment everyone was moving ! 

I perceived we must get our chains loose, 
and that before we could do this these 
Selenites had to be beaten off. I faced 
towards the group of the three goad-bearers. 
Instantly one threw his goad at me. It 
swished over my head, and I suppose went 
flying into the abyss behind. 

I leaped right at him with all my might as 
the goad flew over me. He turned to nip as 
I jumped, and I bore him to the ground, 
came down right upon him, and slipped 
upon his smashed body and fell. 

I came into a sitting position, and on ev^ry 
hand the blue backs of the Selenites were 
receding into the darkness. I bent a link by 
main force and untwisted the chain that had 
hampered me about the ankles, and sprang 
to my feet, with the chain in my hand. 
Another goad, flung javelin-wise, whistled by 
me, and I made a rush towards the darkness 
out of which it had come. Then I turned 

Vo.. „L-37 

back towards Cavor, who was still standing 
in the light of the rivulet near the gulf, con- 
vulsively busy with his wrists. 

" Come on ! " I cried. 

" My hands ! " he answered. 

Then, realizing that I dared not run back 
to him because my ill-calculated steps might 
carry me over the edge, he came shuffling 
towards me, with his hands held out before 

I gripped his chains at once to unfasten 

" Where are they ? " he panted. 

" Run away. They'll come back. They're 
throwing things ! Which way shall we 

" By the light. To that tunnel. Eh ? " 

" Yes," said I, and his hands were free. 

I dropped on my knees and fell to work 
on his ankle bonds. Whack came some- 
thing — 1 know not what — and splashed the 
livid streamlet into drops about us. Far 
away on our right a piping and whistling 

I whipped the chain off his feet, and put 
it in his hand. "Hit with that!" I said, 
and without waiting for an answer set off in 
big bounds along the path by which we had 
come. I heard the impact of his leaps come 
following after me. 

We ran in vast strides. But that running, 
you must understand, was an altogether 
different thing from any running on earth. 
On earth one leaps and almost instantly hits 
the ground again ; but on the moon, because 
of its weaker pull, one shot through the air 
for several seconds before one came to earth. 
In spite of our violent hurry this gave an 
effect of long pauses, pauses in which one 
might have counted seven or eight. Step, 
and one soared off. All sorts of questions 
ran through my mind : " Where are the 
Selenites? What will they do? Shall we 
ever get to that tunnel ? Is Cavor far 
behind? Are they likely to cut him off?" 
Then whack, stride, and off again for another 

I saw a Selenite running in. front of me, 
his legs going exactly as a man's would go on 
earth, saw him glance over his shoulder, and 
heard him shriek as he ran aside out of my 
way into the darkness. He was, I think, our 
guide, but I am not sure. Then in another 
vast stride the walls of rock had come into 
view on either hand, and in two more strides 
I was in the tunnel, and tempering my pace 
to its low roof. I went on to" a bend, then 
stopped and turned back, and plug, plug, 
plug, Cavor came into view, splashing into 




the stream of blue light at every stride, and 
grew larger and blundered into me. We 
stood clutching each other For a moment, 
at least, we had shaken off our captors and 
were alone* 

We were both very much out of breath* 
We spoke in panting, broken sentences. 

" What are we 
to do ? * 

" Hide," 

"Where? 11 

4t Up one of 
these side 

"And then?" 


"Right— come 
on/ 1 

We strode on, 
and presently 
came to a radiat- 
ing, dark cavern, 
Cavor was in 
front He hesi- 
tated, and chose 
a black mouth 
that seemed to 
promise good 
hiding. He 
went towards it 
and turned. 

"It's dark," 
he said. 

"Your legs 
and f e e t will 
light us. You 
are all wet with 
that luminous 

" But " 

A tumult of 
sounds, and in 

particular a sound like a clanging gong 
advancing up the main tunnel, became 
audible. It was horribly suggestive of a 
tumultuous pursuit We made a bolt for 
the unlit side cavern forthwith. As we ran 
along it our way was lit by the irradiation of 
Cavort legs, "It h s lucky,"! panted, M they 


took off our boots, or we should fill this 
place with clatter," On we rushed, taking 
as small steps as we could to avoid striking 
the roof of the cavern. After a time we 
seemed to be gaining on the uproar It 
became muffled, it dwindled, it died away. 
I stopped and looked back, and I heard 

the pad, pad of 
Cavor's feet re- 
ceding. Then he 
stopped also. 
"Bedford," he 
" there's a sort 
of light in front 
of us." 

I looked, and 
at first could see 
nothing. Then 
I perceived his 
head and shoul- 
ders dimly out- 
lined against a 
fainter darkness, 
I saw also that this 
mitigation of the 
darkness was not 
blue, as all the 
other light within 
the moon had 
been, but a pallid 
grey, a very vague 
faint white, the 
daylight colour. 
Cavor noted this 
il iffe r e nee as 
soon as, or sooner 
than, I did, and 
1 think, too r that 
it filled him with 
much the same 
wild hope. 
"Bedford/ 1 he whispered, and his voice 

trembled, "that light — it is possible " 

He did not dare to say the thing he hoped. 
There came a pause. Suddenly I knew by 
the sound of his feet that he was striding 
towards that pallor I followed him, with a 
beating heart. 


* To he ami timed.) 

by Google 

Original from 

A Potato-Peeling Competition. 

B? H. G, Holmes. 

HIS is an age of competition 
and the survival of the fittest. 
Individuality is regarded as 
the sine qua iwn to win success. 
No matter what the position, 
from Premier of an Empire 
right away down to Champion Potato- Peeler 
of a mighty city, the struggle to reach either 
lofty pinnacle only varies comparatively. 

Such a reflection was almost certain to 
occur to the spectator of one of the most 
novel and withal amusing contests ever 
organized in London, 

The well-known catering firm of " Pearce 
and Plenty " owns the distinction of pro- 
viding food on a marvellously cheap scale to 
a certain class of the vast London public. 
The number of "sausages and mashed" 
which the score or so of" Pearce and Plenty " 
establishments are daily called upon by their 
hungry patrons to serve over the counter 
is — well, appalling ! Other similarly satis- 
factory dainties are quite beyond counting. 
But it will be sufficient for the purposes of 
this article to state that over 2,500 tons of 
potatoes are cooked and sold by this firm 
alone in a year. 

Each ot the many depots of delectable 
dishes has its staff of lads, whose sole work 
throughout the day, from nine o'clock in the 
morning until seven in the evening, is potato- 
peeling. They are paid about 8s. a week, 
with an allowance for each hundredweight of 
potatoes they may peel in the six days. 
Pearce's employ about eighty hoys to peel 
their potatoes, of which about fifty tons are 

Digitized by \*i 

used in a week } while some of the boys can 
peel yolb. in an hour. 

As an additional inducement to make 
nimble fingers acquire more speed, once a 
year there is held a competition, open to the 
smartest of the potato -peeling brigade- Only 
those who have seen the boys at work in 
such a contest can form an adequate idea of 
their dexterity. 

It was on a wintry evening that the writer 
made the best of his way to u Pearce and 
Plenty's " depot in Clerkenwell Road* It was 
past the hour when customers are served, and 
although the great halt of "'a'penny mugs 
and doorsteps" was almost empty, there still 
hovered around the place an air of activity. 
Attendants hurried from mysterious cup- 
boards and passages, each laden with a huge 
bucket of tubers en route for the scene of the 
coming battle. Outside the doors groups of 
boys, competitors and their mates, waited 
restlessly for the signal to enter and start 
business. There was no mistaking the lads 
who had been chosen to display the activity 
of their muscles in the gentle art* Each 
carried his expectant anxiety written plainly 
on his features -for were not the prizes worth 
winning? A bright golden sovereign for the 
champion and five other amounts of less sub- 
stantial value for runners-up. 

u You'll win that quid, ole man ! n each 
knight of the scraper was solemnly assured 
by his particular churns. 

Soon the arena was ready, and, at a word, 
the boys filed in to their seats. They 
numbered fourteen, coming from all parts of 


2<J 2 


London, north, south, east, and as far west as 
Charing Cross, Not more than two boys 
were allowed to enter from any branch 

When they had 
stripped and got into 
war-paint they looked 
a imart, determined 
lot of youngsters. 
Before each were two 
buckets, one packed 
with ?Klb, of potatoes 
" in their jackets," 
the other gaping 
open to receive the 
tubers peeled and 
ready for the boilers. 
A special knife, 
guarded to prevent 
wastage in peeling, 
was gripped in the 
right hand of each 
eager competitor. 
Around them on 
every side were visi- 
tors, come to look on 
and enjoy the scene. 
At the backs of some 
of the young scrapers 

stood a friend, ready with wise counsel and 
cheery chaff to encourage his "pal." Outside 
in the street an excited "gallery," for whom 
there was no entrance to the show, could be 
heard yelling cries of inspiration to their 
more favoured companions. 

A hush came over everything as Mr, Pearce, 
senior, stepped into the space separating the 
two long rows 
of competi- 
tors, and 
read the rules. 
The winni ng 
of a prize not 
only depended 
on speed, he 
pointed out, 
but there were 
two indepen- 
dent judges 
present who 
would after- 
wards inspect 
the work done, 
and award 
points to those 
whose potatoes 
were well peeled throughout, leaving no 
" black eyes " or other blemishes. 

Precisely at eight o'clock Mr, Pearce gave 

Digitized by G* 

willing hands shot into action 



Pram a Photoftnpk. 

Frem a I 


the word to "go!" Swift as the race-horse 
at the fall of the flng fourteen pairs of 

The battle 
had begun : The in- 
visible gallery out- 
side, in some mys- 
terious way becoming 
aware that the fun 
had started, cheered 

Splash — splash — 
splash ! No sooner 
had the boys gripped 
their tubers and set 
their scrapers flying 
than it appeared to 
the spectators that 
the creamy spheres 
and oblongs began 
to drop into the 
yawning buckets of 
water that stood 
before every boy. 
The shippings uf 
peel flew about in 
showers, To and fro 
flashed the knives in 
the expert hands of 
the young shavers. 
" Splash, splash t splash ! " went the peelings 
into the water, into which they continuously 
dropped from the hand that gripped another 
"brownie 1 * almost as soon as the peeled one 
had left it. Fourteen deft young hands 
whirled the sharp scrapers, sending forth 
fourteen showers of peelings. Could they 
possibly keep up such marvellous dexterity 

throughout the 
entire task of 
a quarter of a 
weight of 
41 n o b b 1 y 
ones"? It 
seemed to be 

It was inter ~ 
cstingto notice 
the styles of 
some of the 
various boys. 
Some people 
imagine that 
there is only 
one way of 
peeling a potato. There are at least half-a- 
dozen, A boy who moved his scraper like a 

needle of a sewing-machine at work, and 


I /■,',.'■■:;,-.. ,■ '". 



From al 



who proved to be the fastest peeler in the 
company, gripped each potato with his left 
hand and placed it against a bit of board 
fitted into the top portion of his apron, just 
below the neck. Holding the potato firmly 
against the board, he scraped inwards with a 

A few taps of the point of the knife, and 
hey, presto ! " eyes " flew about the place 
like a hailstorm* This youth, whoso name 
is Hazel 1, and who came from Pearee's 
Lambeth Hill branch, must prove an excel- 
lent example to his fellow-peelers, 

From a I 


stroke as unerring as a steam-hammer. A 
large potato 3 weighing 2lb*, passed through 
his hands in 4 3-5 sec. This youngster's 
dexterity in extracting "eyes" was wonderful, 

eyes was wonck 

Another style of peel-removal to be seen 
was the holding of the potato firmly against 
the lower part of the bent right knee, scraping 
inwards. Thin position gives more leverage 


z 9 4 


to the arm, but necessitates the bending of 
the body, the operator being almost doubled 
up. Such a style must prove ruinous to the 
physique of a young lad if practised through- 

hand and pared outwards as a man whittles 
a stick. 

There was tremendous excitement amongst 
the competitors, and a yell from the invisible 


From a} winner, \PhoioprnptL 

out the length of a working day, It gained 
the boy a first prize, however, so it is certainly 
rapid and cleanly. 

Another dexterous style h to hold the 
tuber upon the upper portion of the leg, 
paring outwards to the right. The style 
chiefly practised during the evening by many 

From a] 1-RIZE win NEK. [ ttuttogr «!***- 

"gallery/ when the boy Hazell, with a 
triumphant chuckle, turned his empty bucket 
upside down and shouted, " Done, sir ! " He 
had peeled 281b. of potatoes in i8min. ^see. 
Truly, a wonderful spell of work. His face 
was scarlet and the perspiration streamed 
from his brow as he finished. As, however, 


| I'JtftOffnipH- 

of the boys was the old-fashioned method — 
adopted with success by the second prize 
winner — of gripping the potato in the left 
palm and paring the peel towards the wrist 
Others held the i( nobbly ones" in the left 

Digitized b/G< 

his peeling hardly came up to the standard 
of cleanliness, he was only allowed the third 
prize. The second boy, Goddard, of Vic- 
toria Hall depot, completed his 28IL one 
minute and a half later, the others follow 
Original from 






| rk&iogratth. 

ing at intervals varying from one to five 

When all had finished, each boy's work 
was turned out for inspection by the judges, 
who duly decided that for excellence in clean 
peeling, irrespective 
of time occupied, J, 
Goddard, of Victoria 
Hall, was entitled to 
first place, and W, 
Pritehard to the 

Although there 
was no band to 

play *'3ee the Conquering Heroes Come" 
as Goddard and Pritehard made their way 
to the street, they received a vociferous 
round of applause from the combined 
forces of the invisible "gallery" and the 


The writer desires 
to acknowledge the 
courtesy of Mr* 
Pearce m enabling 
the accompanying 
photographs to be 
taken under difficult 


by Google 

Original from 


Author of " God's 
Prisoner,*' r * Risittg 
Fortutm" "A Ftin^ 
f ess of Va$copy t n etc. 

T was somewhere about Sep- 
tember when he descended 
on London, and in his own 
peculiar way began to make 
an impression there. 

He was small and chunky 
built, with a cheerful little face like a winter- 
kept apple, a hopeful blue eye, and small, 
grey side- whiskers, and there was something 
about him which made you say "Horse!' 7 
the moment you set eyes on him. 

The impression he made on P.C 42 at 
Ludgate Circus was fairly representative of 
the impression he created elsewhere, 

When he had stood for three mortal days 
alongside the obelisk there, P,C\ 42, who 
had been keeping a wary eye on him to see 
what mischief he was up to, remarked jocu- 
larly from the height of his six-feet- two : 
44 Lost something? " 

And the little man turned the apple face 
up to him and said, " Well, yes, I have*" 
** Horse ? T7 asked P.C 42, instinctively. 
u No, a man." 

" Come up to look for him ? " 
"Well, yes, I have/' 
"Hope to find him?" 
u Well, yes, 1 was hoping to. ,! 
" Expect to find him on a 'bus ? " 

Digitized by ViUOglC 

" Well, I did rather, or maybe a cab." 

" I see," said RC. 42. " Big place, 

" It's bigger'n I thought." 

" Well," said P.C 42, slowly setting himself 
in motion towards a kink in the traffic, 
" hope you'll find him." 

" Thank 'ec," said the little man, and turned 
his search-lights on a white Road Car which 
P.C. 42 had just quarantined with his fore- 

" I reckon you'll know the hosses on this 
route pretty well by this time/' said P.C 42, 
as he sauntered back after releasing his 

" Know every one of 'em already," said 
the little man, with a short, pleased laugh. " I 
reckon be 'em quicker'n I do the drivers," 

"Ah! ,J said P.C 42. "I thought you 
knew a hoss when you saw one. An 1 who is 
it you're looking for?" 

"A young man that's wanted at home very 
particular, " 

" An J you think he'll be driving a hoss 
somewhere in London?" 

"That's it," said the little man, eagerly. 

"Dig place, London," said P,C 42, oracu- 
larly, once more. " Tried the Bank ? Heap 
o* 'buses theScirjinal from 




" Aye ; I was a week there." 

"Tried the Elephant?" 

The little man looked up at him sharply, 
but, seeing no hint of humour in the official 
face, said, " No." 

" Heap o* 'buses there, too." 

" Where's it ? " 

" 'Cross the water — straight down there." 

"Thank'ee; I'll do that next." 

By degrees every policeman at every grand 
junction of the ways came to know him, and 
one and all regarded hira with benevolent 
enjoyment as the man who was looking for a 
man in London and really hoping to find 
him. One and all they would have helped 
him if they could, but as he alone knew 
whom he was seeking, the most they could 
do for him was to pass a cheery word of 
greeting whenever they met, and to keep out 
of their faces any suspicion of a doubt as to 
his ultimate success: 

If he disappeared for a day or two from 
their beats they only supposed him gone else- 
where, and when he turned up again it was : — 

" No luck yet?" 

And the little man would reply, cheerfully, 
" No luck yet. But he'll come." 

But when at times he disappeared from his 
various beats, and the policemen supposed 
him to be trying pastures new, they might 
have surprised him very far afield indeed. 

If, by chance, they had wandered so far 
away themselves, which they never did, they 
might have seen the little man hie him away 
to King's Cross Station about twice in each 
month and take a third-class ticket there, and 
after a two hours' run get out of the train at 
a station where he was evidently well known. 
For the station-master, as soon as he had got 
rid of the train and was his own man again, 
would come up to him with a thin veneer of 
concern overlying a thick substratum of com- 
passionate superiority in his face, and ask, 
"No news yet, Mr. Long?" and the little 
man would shake his head and say, " No 
news yet, Mr. Brown ; but we'll find him all 
right," and would look as if he really believed 
it At which the station-master would shake 
his head doubtfully and stand gazing after 
the little man with nothing but compassion 
in his face as he pressed sturdily along the 
way to the village. 

Beyond the village he would turn in at a 
pair of great iron gates, and a little, bright- 
faced woman, who was always waiting in the 
doorway of the trim stone lodge, would 
greet him with a cheerful : — 

" Well, Bob, my man, here you are, and 
glad I am to see you. I'm always thinking 

Vol. xxi.— 3a 

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of you being run over in them London 
streets. No news yet ? " 

" No news yet, Lisbeth," the little man 
would say. " You all right ? " 

" Right as a trivet, my man. Only anxious 
about you — and him. Do you really think 
there's any hope of finding him, Bob ? " 

"I'm not going to give it up yet, Lisbeth. 
London's a mighty big place, you know. 
Let's have some tea. I haven't tasted any- 
thing as good as your tea and crumpets since 
I saw you last. There's no one in London 
can do 'em equal to you, old girl." 

And tea was always just ready and the 
crumpets done to a turn, and over them Bob 
told his wife all the disappointing wonders of 
the time since his last visit. And his wife 
would listen with her eyes and mouth so very 
wide open that Bob always got the lion's 
share of the crumpets, which was just exactly 
what the astute old lady intended. 

And after tea Bob would stroll up the 
darkening avenue among the firs and rhodo- 
dendrons till it opened out in a great sweep 
before a mighty grey stone house which lay 
with closed eyes waiting for one to come and 
awaken it, and he for whom it lay waiting 
was lost in the wilds of London or elsewhere. 
And Bob Long, in spite of his hopeful looks 
and words, began to have a fear deep down 
in his little heart of gold that he was lost for 

So, now and again, when no one was 
about, he would heave a mournful sigh as he 
gazed at the beautiful old house, and then 
he would go round to the stables and rattle 
the boys up, just to keep his hand in and to 
feel his own grip. For there never was a 
fault he could find, since the boys were all of 
his own up-bringing, and every soul about 
Cleserest loved a horse next to himself, 
unless someone else happened to stray in 

And whenever he went to the stables there 
came tripping out from the big house, as 
soon as she heard he was there, a dainty 
little lady wearing dark robes and a wistful 
face, and at sight of her old Bob's hat came 
off and his heart was sore as he stood bare- 
headed before her, and to her anxious " No 
news, Bobalong?" he always replied, cheerily, 
" Not yet, Miss Mary, but it's a mighty 
big place, London, and it takes a lot o' 
working through. Nothing from the lawyers, 
I suppose, miss ? " 

"Nothing, Bobalong. They've been 
advertising now for six months, and it's all 
done no good. I'm beginning to be afraid 
he's dead, Bobalong." 

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"Not a bit of it, missy. Master Charles 
ain't the kind to go and die like that just 
when we want him so bad." 

He felt himself that it was rather weak as 
an argument, and Mary Cleserest only shook 
her head as though it did not carry absolute 
conviction to either heart or mind. 

"You're going back, Bobalcmg?" she 
would ask, wistfully* 

**Why, of course, missy, I'm going to go 
on looking till I find him," the old man 
would say, so sturdily that Mary always felt a 
trifle comforted in spite of herself. She said 
to herself that she was afraid it was hopeless 
and that her brother was dead, but in any 
case she wasn't going to be beaten in hope- 
fulness by old Bobakmg. 

It was three years since her brother 
Charles fell in love with Margaret Sannox, 
her governess and very dear friend- And 
when Sir Geoffrey in due course caught them 
at it, and expressed his feelings to the verge 


of apoplexy, Charles replied in the Cleserest 
spirit, and was promptly given his choice 
between home and sweetheart, and without a 
moment's hesitation chose the latter* And 
so, at much shorter notice than she could 
legally have claimed, Charles and Margaret 
disappeared from Cleserest, and not one 
single word had she heard of them since. 
For the furious old gentleman, forgetting his 
gentlemanliness in his fury, tore up every 
letter that appeared in the mail- bag in either 

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Charles's or Margaret's writing, no matter to 
whom it was addressed, and so in course of 
time he had no more letters to tear up, and 
the parting was complete. 

Then the old man died and Geoffrey his 
son reigned in his stead* And Cleserest 
breathed more peacefully and lived in hopes 
of seeing Master Charles once more. For 
they all loved him dearly, from old Mrs, 
Dane, the housekeeper, to old Jezebel, the 
mother of goats, who for three years had 
rooted dolefully in odd corners of the stables 
in search of him, and still ruminated with fixed, 
glassy stare and slow-moving jaws on his sad 
defection. For Jezebel looked with doubt 
and suspicion on all the world, including her 
own kids after they had attained a certain 
age; but for one tall, bright-faced young man 
whom she had known from his and her 
youth she had a strange affection which even 
three years had not sufficed to wipe out. 
Brother (Jeoff did his best to right the 

wrong. He 
advert i sed, 
through the 
family lawyer, 
in the London 
papers, but he 
might as well 
have saved 
his money, 
for neither 
Charles Clese- 
rest nor his 
wife was read- 
ing the papers. 
He, because 
he was out in 
the Soudan 
with his regi- 
ment and a 
broken heart. 
She, because 
she was lying 
peacefully under a smooth green mound 
in a quiet Hampshire churchyard* And 
the sturdy, blue-eyed boy, whose coming 
at such a cost had crushed his fathers 
life, was out at nurse with the land- 
lady of the farm near Christ church where 
Charles and Margaret Sannox — for he had 
cast off the old name with the old life 
and had taken the name of her he loved 
more than anything on earth— were stopping 
at the time of their sons birth* They had 
had a happy year together — life at its 
simplest and best, troubled only by thoughts 
of the separation from home and those they 
loved* Then the end came, swift and 

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sudden, just as life seemed brightening to its 
fullest. And when all was over, and Charles's 
heart was buried in Christchurch-yard — so 
that, for the time being, there was no heart 
left for the crowing, blue-eyed boy, who 
seemed to him to exult in the mischief he had 
wrought — he turned into cash everything that 
was left him, save Margaret's wedding-ring, 
paid for Charles Junior's board and lodging 
for the next two years, left with the farm-wife 
a sealed envelope, to be opened in case of 
his own death, and enlisted in the 21st 
Lancers. Eighteen months later he was in 
Egypt, and when the fighting came at last he 
fought as men do fight when the ties have all 
been snapped and life is less than nothing to 
them. He got sorely damaged, and found 
cause for regret in that the damage was only 
partial and landed him in Netley instead of 
in the shallow trench at Omdurman. He 
would have preferred remaining in Egypt 
as a permanent addition to the country. 
Discharged at last — cured — he went over to 
Christchurch to look at his boy, and found 
him such a beauty that his heart shook off 
its sickness and woke to its responsibilities. 

Charles Junior adopted the big, quiet, 
brown-faced man at once, and delighted in 
him exceedingly. They stopped for a fort- 
night at the farm to complete the "cure," and 
then it behoved them to find some means of 
livelihood. He turned to London, as a 
matter of course, and duly arrived there early 
in November, with as splendid a two-year-old 
boy as the whole of England could show, 
with a resected leg which unfitted him for 
any very active employment, a wounded lung 
which gave him pause now and again, and a 
pension of nothing a day. 

This part of Charles Cleserest's story is 
so very commonplace that there is no need 
to enlarge upon it. He learned many 
things which he never forgot. He diligently 
answered many advertisements — in person, 
as a rule, in order to save the postage — and 
thereby came to the knowledge that there 
are a great many more people seeking places 
in this world than there are places wanting 
persons. He learned, too, that a University 
education, without practical experience in 
any special line, counts for less than nothing, 
and that, to the mind of a plain business 
man, military service unfits one who has 
- bled for his country for the ordinary 
duties of civilized life. It was heart- 
breaking work, but the idea of applying for 
assistance at home — well, yes, it occurred to 
him certainly, but only to be kicked out 
instantly. He would sooner die. Cleserests 

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break, but never bend. He had done his 
duty in writing home after his marriage, and 
no single word had he or Margaret received 
in reply to their letters. We know why. 
They desired no communication with him. 
So be it. Unfortunately, he never set eyes 
on any single one of the lawyer's advertise- 
ments in the Times and Morning Post He 
had very soon found that the most likely 
papers for advertisements within his compass 
were the Chronicle and Telegraphy and even 
in them he wasted no time on the personal 

The thought of a commissionaire's uniform 
began to haunt his dreams like a nightmare. 
Sooner drive a 'bus or a cab, a 'bus from 
choice as being less speculative. The idea 
grew upon him. He parted with almost all 
he had to raise the necessary five pounds 
and went along to Scotland Yard. As to 
his capabilities as a driver of horses there 
was not a moment's doubt. 

" That's your own name ? " asked the 
official who had witnessed his performance, 
glancing up at the bronzed, high-bred face as 
he handed him his documents. 

" It's the name I fought under at Omdur- 
man," said Charles. 

" What regiment ? " 

"21st Lancers." 

«Ah!— wounded?" 

" Leg and back." 

" If ever I can be of any service to you let 
me know," and he handed his card to Charles, 
who thanked him for it. 

But as it was in the offices so it was here, 
and so it is everywhere. There were many 
more men wanting to drive 'buses than there 
were 'buses to drive, and he had to wait his 
turn. Perhaps his friend at Scotland Yard 
put in a word for him, perhaps there fell a 
sudden mortality in the higher ranks of the 
profession. Anyhow, the call came just in 
time, and none too soon. He was down to 
his very last shilling when a letter came from 
the L.G.O. Co.'s yard-master telling him he 
could start work the following Monday 
morning. The shilling bridged the inter- 
vening days, and Charles the Younger, at all 
events, knew no lack in the matter of bread 
and milk. 

He was a sturdy little fellow, thanks to his 
life on the Hampshire farm, and his wants 
were of the simplest. He was a huge delight 
and a mighty consolation to his father, and 
was already developing an intelligent family 
interest in horses. They were great chums 
those two, and during those long days of 
waiting they tramped together through many 

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a mile of West-end streets and deserted 
parks, starting on four feet, and, as a rule, 
completing the journey on two. And if their 
pockets were empty their hearts were also 
light — one of them, at all events, and the 


other was not going to be beaten by a two- 
year-old — and the love that grew between 
them was very strong and very true and very 
beautiful. So deep and sweet a thing was it 
to one of them, that had choice lain between 
all that the world could give him and the 
little curly head that lay on the pillow beside 
him at night and laughed into his eyes in the 
morning with eyes that were so very like 
those other eyes that had gone, he would 
have counted the world well lost compared 
with the love of the bright-faced boy. 

And so if their life was narrow it was also 
very wide, and no man's life is the worse for 
having passed under the yoke. 

And all this time little Bob Long, autocrat 
of the stables at Cleserest, was searching the 
great scattered haystack of London for this 
missing needle, with the patience and dogged 
perseverance of a self-willed old man who, 

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having got an idea into his head, refused to 
have it beaten out of him by so small a thing 
as simple want of success. 

Bob Long — Bobalong always to the 
Cleserest children — had taught Geoff and 
Charles and Mary to ride as soon as their 
tiny legs could stretch across a saddle or curl 
round a pommel. When Charles disappeared 
he sorrowed greatly, but could do no more. 
When Sir Geoffrey died, 
and Brother Geoff came 
to the throne and 
showed every wish to 
heal the breach and 
recover the fugitive, 
Bob's hopes rose. 
Then Geoff himself was 
killed in the hunting- 
field ten days before his 
wedding - day, and the 
discovery of Charles 
became an imperative 

Bob's great idea came 
into his mind during 
one of many discussions 
he had with Mary 
Cleserest about that 
time. Mary, knowing 
nothing of the causes 
of it, had wondered 
much at the never once 
broken silence of her 
dear Charles and her 
almost equally dear 
Margaret Sannox. 
When their father died 
her entreaties had urged 
Geoff to continuous 
exertions for the discovery of the wanderers. 
But nothing came of it all. Many times she 
and Bob discussed the matter. 

" I cannot think how they can be living, 
Bobalong," said Mary, "for Charles had 
nothing of his own and cannot have taken 
much with him, and I can't imagine what 
work he could do." 

" There's not many knows as much about 
horses as he does, Miss Mary," said Bob, 
with conviction. 

" Yes, of course he knows horses," mused 
Mary, " but I don't see how that would help 
him, Bob." 

" London's a mighty big place for horses, 
missy. I've heard say that the Earl of Beltress, 
Lord Kaskerton he was then, drove a hansom 

in London for three months once n 

" Oh, Bobalong, you don't think our dear 
Charles is driving a hansom ? " 

Original from 



" He might do worse, missy, but well 
hope he's doing better." 

41 My poor Charles ! — and Margaret ! I 
wonder why they never wrote to me ! " 

"Maybe, Miss Mary " began Bob, 

who had not served the old baronet for forty 
years without getting a pretty shrewd insight 
into his character. 

I Maybe what, Bobalong ? " asked Mary, 
when he drew rein. 

" I've heard tell of letters not getting 
through to people," said Bob, sturdily. 

" Why, what do you mean, Bobalong ? " 

" Well, it wasn't like Mr. Charles never to 
write to you, now was it, missy ? " 

"No, Bobalong, it wasn't, and I can't 
understand why he didn't" 

"Well, maybe he did and maybe the 
letters was lost" 

" I'd sooner think that than that he'd 
never written." 

" Of course, missy. I'd just think it, if I 
was you. Can't do no harm anyway." 

A few days later he came to her with a 

II You're not greatly needing me at pre- 
sent, Miss Mary ? " She was not, for in the 
stress of her bereavements — the sudden death 
of Geoff and the uncertainty respecting 
Charles — she had no heart for visiting beyond 
her pensioners, whom her personal griefs 
allowed to suffer no lack. 

" I want to go to London," continued 

" To London, Bobalong ? To look for 

"Yes, missy. It's in my mind that I 
might find him there." 

She felt very doubtful, knowing what a 
vast warren London was. But she would 
not show it Any chance contained a spark 
of hope. 

"James Scath, he's a good lad, and he'll 
keep things right in the stables and see to 
you as careful as I would myself " 

" Nobody could do that, Bobalong ; but 
Jim is a good boy, and he can do all I 

" And I'll come back every now and then 
to see things are going all right. I can't sit 
still thinking of Mr. Charles, missy, and 
that's a fact" 

So Bob went to London and made the 
acquaintance of many 'bus and cab horses, 
and incidentally of their drivers and the 
drivers' keepers — the gentlemen in blue. 
And as the months passed and there was no 
fruit for all his labours he began to grow 
doubtful, but would not show it ; and Mary 

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began to grow doubtful, too, but would not 
for the world have let Bob imagine it. And 
so these two, with scarce a hope between 
them, still wore the semblance of it, each for 
the benefit of the other, and at times suc- 
ceeded in deceiving one another, and almost 
in deceiving themselves, into the belief that 
there was still room left for hope. 

It would have been much to be deplored 
if so faithful an endeavour and so steadfast a 
hope had had to go unrewarded. 

Charles had been put on a suburban cross- 
country route to begin with, and was steadily, 
and with an extremely cheerful heart, driving 
his 'bus between Acton and Hanwell, while 
little Bob Long was vainly lying in wait for 
him at Piccadilly Circus, and Ludgate Hill, 
and the Bank, and so, in the nature of things, 
they did not meet 

Charles had taken lodgings out at Hanwell, 
and little Charles found no lack of fresh air 
and outdoor amusements, of a very juvenile 
character, of course, right along into the 
winter. The old woman in whose house 
they lived had taken to him mightily and 
watched over him with grandmotherly care. 
And Charles Cleserest, with the great house 
lying all asleep for want of its master, and 
many warm hearts aching to get word of him, 
found himself more than content — having no 
disturbing knowledge of these things — in the 
fact that he was earning his living and paying 
his way, and that his boy was growing up 
strong and sturdy, and daily increasing in 
favour with man and the goddesses who ride 
on the tops of 'buses. 

Just three days before Christmas one of the 
drivers on the main route from Hammersmith 
to Liverpool Street fell sick of rheumatics, 
and his 'bus was given tentatively to Sannox 
to see how he would manage the obstacle 
race to the City. 

He got along first-rate the first two 
days. It was on the third day, the after- 
noon of Christmas Eve, that he ran into 
a van at the corner of Old Bailey and 
took the hind wheel off as clean as a 
whistle; but Charles always maintains that 
the fault was in no wise his, and divides the 
honours between Bob Long and the van 
driver, with a bias in favour of Bob Long. 

For that day Charles had taken his boy 
along with him as a special Christmas treat, 
and little Charlie, well wrapped up in the 
front garden seat at his father's right hand, 
surveyed the bustling crowds and the sparkl- 
ing shops with eyes stretched to the fullest, 
and came to the conclusion that London was 
a very great and wonderful place, and that 

Original from 



the boy who could see it all in this command- 
ing fashion from the top of his father's T bus 
was a fortunate boy indeed. 

It was a fine, clear day, with a feeble 
attempt at a smile from the sun and a suspi- 
cion of frost in die air, and little Charlie's 
nose and cheeks were red with it, and those 
wide eyes of his winkled like stars on a 
frosty night. It had been an adventurous 
time. A new and offensively officious 
checker had just held up the passengers 
and demanded their tickets or their lives, 
and finding Charlie without one had insisted 
on his paying his fare, which his father 
laughingly did for him, and Charlie informed 
the checker that he was a " plug," which was 
extremely rude of him, since the young man 
was only doing what he considered his duty. 

Then he had seen a Road Car horse come 
to grief as she tried to get a footing in Fleet 
Street, and though full of sympathy for her 
distress, yet since she belonged to the 
opposition line he had didactically pro- 
nounced her an old crock, in which he was, 
of course, quite 
wrong* But to 
Charlie there were 
never more than two 
decent horses on the 
street, and those 
were the two his 
father happened to 
be driving at the 

Then their own 
attempt at resump- 
tion of progress 
under Ludgate Hill 
Bridge was attended 
with such scrabbling 
and snorting that 
the whole place 
echoed again. And Charlies 
eyes were glued so tightly to 
bing heads and plunging shoulders and 
straining flanks in front of him that he 
did not see a little man who had crept up the 
stairs and slid into the sent beside him. The 
little man's face was shining in a way that 
shamed the sun, and he wriggled so on the seat 
that Charlie compressed himself into half his 
usual space in order to give him more room. 
But even that had no effect on the little man, 
who wriggled convulsively till the horses had 
recovered themselves, and it was just when 
they were passing the big butter -shop that he 
laid a hard little brown hand on Charles 
Cleserest's shoulder and said, with a 
choke \ — 

" Master Charles— Sir Charles, I mean— 
you are wanted at home," 

" Halloa, Bohalong ! Is that you?" said 
Cleserest, as quietly almost as if he had been 
addressing his own conductor But it is 
more than possible that the sudden use of 
the title — which told all Bobalong's story — 
caused a momentary aberration, and so paved 
the way for the accident. For just then that 
extremely stupid van issued from Old Bailey 
and made an exhibition of itself by shedding 
its hind wheel in the very middle of Ludgate 
Hill, thereby blocking the traffic for a full half- 
hour, and exciting profanity enough to have 
thawed the roadways within the three-mile 
radius and to have brought out a blush on 
the dome of St Paul's. 

Cleserest saw the crowd and the policemen 
as in a mist, and gave his number as one in 
a dream, and it was not till they were safely 
in the swim again under lee of the big church 
that he woke up and said to old Bob : — 

11 Is that so, Bob? I'm sorry to hear it. 
Where's Geoff?" 


"Broke his neck out hunting, five months 
ago, Master I mean, Sir Charles." 

'* Poor old chap ! I'm sorry." 

" You'll come back with me at once, Sir 
Charles ? if asked Bob, anxiously, " Miss 
Mary she's pining badly for you/ 1 

"Poor little girl ! This is my boy, Bob 

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along," said Charles, as they came to a 
momentary stand in the backwater by the 
Bank. And Bobalong, who somehow had 
not thought of that possibility, metaphorically 
speaking went down on his knees to Charlie, 
and was very near to falling on his neck and 
kissing him, whereby he would have lost 
favour in that young man's eyes. 

" This is a very dear old friend of mine, 
Charlie," said his father. 

And Charlie stretched out his hand in its 
little black woollen glove and said, " How 
do, sir ? " and old Bobalong was put to it to 
keep from making a ridiculous exhibition of 

" Yes, I'll come when I've finished the 
day's work," said Charles. " Where shall I 
meet you, Bob ? " 

" I ain't a-going to let you out o' my sight 
again, Sir Charles, till I see you a-driving 
through the gates at Cleserest," said the little 
man, laughing delightedly. " Over four 
months I've been looking for you, and find- 
ings is keepings, Sir Charles." 

" I'll not run away," said Charles. " I shall 
be glad to see the old place again— if I'm 

wanted there " and then he was silent and 

his face was very grave, and he narrowly 
escaped another collision as the thought of 
the dear one who had borne the yoke with 
him and who ought to have shared this en- 
largement came upon him in a surge of sorrow. 

At Liverpool Street Bob Long slipped off 
for five minutes and ran as fast as his legs 
could carry him to the telegraph office, and 
hurried back beaming, but full of anxiety 
lest the 'bus should have departed without 
him. But the 'bus was there all right. Its 
driver was in so brown a study that the con- 
ductor had already rung the bell three times 
to intimate that he was ready if the gentle- 
man with the ribbons was, and he was now 
coming up on deck to see what was the matter, 
and a burly policeman was shouting at him to 
know if he was going to stop there all day, 
and Charlie was beginning to tug at his arm. 
But Charles Cleserest's thoughts were floating 
between the great house in Blankshire and 
the quiet, green mound in Christchurch- 
yard, and all that this news meant to him 
and all that it might have meant And the 
sad thoughts overbore the glad thoughts, and 
he would have given it all for the clasp of 
Margaret Sannox's hand and the deep, deep 
look of her loving brown eyes. 

Under the combined influences of the 
conductor and the policeman and Charlie he 
woke up to a sense of his responsibilities 
and drew the whip gently over his horses' 

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flanks as Bob Long climbed up to his seat 
beside him again. 

They chatted quietly, and without further 
accident, all the way back to Hammersmith. 
But Charles had to make one more journey 
to the Bank and back before the day's work 
was done, and Bob kept close to him all the 
time, and little Charlie fell asleep in Bob's 
arms as they were going home for the very 
last time. 

Then Charles thanked the yard master for 
his kindness, and intimated his wish to give 
up his position, much to that gentleman's 

" Find it too much for you ? " he asked. 
" Tis pretty tough in the City." 

" It's not that I like it well enough. But 
I've got another call," and the yard-master, 
looking at Bob Long, decided in his own 
mind that another prodigal was on his way 
home, and wondered somewhat at the 
remarkable difference that existed at times 
between fathers and sons. 

Then to Hanwell to get some special 
treasures, and then back to King's Cross and 
away into the night, till little Charlie lost 
track of things, and only returned to a know- 
ledge of them as he was being carried by his 
father along the platform of a country station 
to a drag which stood outside with a pair of 
champing horses, well wrapped up in blankets, 
for they had been waiting a long time. 

At sight of them the man on the box 
touched his hat and grinned a welcome 
which he did not know how to put into 
words. And from the back of the drag there 
sprang a slight figure in black and furs, and 
leaped at the two Charleses with the cry of a 
hungry soul, and gathered them into a clinging 
embrace which told all its own story. 

"Will you drive, Sir Charles?" asked 
Bobalong, proudly. 

" Of course, Bob. Why, Jim, what a big 
boy you're getting " — to the driver, who was 
scrambling down to give him his seat. "Now, 
Mary, my dear, up you come. Charlie, boy, 
hang on to your Aunt Mary. If you fall 
asleep again you'll tumble in among the 
horses and frighten them." 

" Where does this 'bus go to, dad ? " the 
small boy asked, sleepily. 

" Home, my boy." 

" That's a good job," said Master Charles, 
with little idea of the new and wonderful 
meaning the w r ord would ever bear for him 
in future. 

They swept through the dark lanes at a 
pace that kept the small boy awake ; through 
the village, where every window was alight 

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JfOMt \" 

and the good folks stood in their door- 
ways and shouted welcomes as they passed ; 
and so at last through the gates by the 
lodge where Mrs. Long stood curtsying 
triumphantly, with, tears of joy and pride 
running down her face. For hero was Mr, 
Charles come back to his own again, and it 
was all her Bob's doing, when everybody else 
had failed. The light of Mrs, Long's fire 
streaming across the drive and shining on the 
frost-rimmed leaves of the rhododendrons 
opposite was the cheeriest thing Charlie had 
seen for many a day. He leaned forward 
from •between his father and his aunt and 
stared into the cosy little house with longing 
eyes and asked : — 

"Is this home, dad?" 

41 It's the beginning of it, my boy/* and he 
bent over and wrung Mrs, Long's hand in a 
way that made the happy tears flow faster 
than ever. 

Then they swept on 
up the winding avenue 
under the dark trees 
till they came to the 
great house of Gestu- 
res t — asleep no longer, 
but very wide awake 
indeed ; with hearty 
welcome beaming 
from every eye, and a 
great, warm river of 
light flowing out of the 
open doors and spark- 
ling like diamonds on 
the frosty gravel And 
wanner and heartier 
still was the welcome 
of the eager faces 
clustered round the 
doorway to greet the 
master they all loved 
so dearly and feared 
they had lost 

Charles Cleserest 
look little Charlie's 
hand and his aunt 
took the other, and 
they drew him re- 
luctantly away from 
a critical observa- 
tion of the satin- 
skinned, foam -fl ecked 
horses which had 
whirled them along 
at so tremendous a 
pace, and between them they jumped him up 
the steps to his kingdom. 

They were passing in among the beaming 
faces and the hearty "God bless you, sir's," 
of the crowding servants, when the bells of 
St, Mary Beauly pealed out their sonorous 
Christmas greeting, and in a second Clearcole 
in the valley and Cottesloe on the hill were 
answering them, till all the pulsing blue vault 
was filled with the sound of their voices* 

"What's 'at, daddie?" asked the small 

" It is our welcome home, my boy," and, 
in spite of the gladness of his home-coming, 
his face was grave and almost sad as he 
thought of her who had started with him on 
his journey and had travelled away beyond 

Then he lifted the boy and kissed him, 
and put him on his shoulder and carried him 
up into the home of his fathers. 

by Google 

Original from 

The Story of a Great Disaster. 

By J. G. Robins, F.R.G.S. 

X the 3rd November, 1893, 
there occurred a very serious 
disaster at Santander, North 
Spain. Although the principal 
tacts were reported at the time 
=i* in our newspapers, nothing like 
a complete description of the disaster has 
ever before appeared. The purpose of this 
article is to supply, for the first time, a con- 
cise and consecutive account of what was 
not only a terrible but an almost unique 
accident. The facts were noted down 
from statements of eye-witnesses, and the 
accompanying photographs {all but the first) 
taken a few days after the occurrence. 

About two o'clock in the afternoon of the 
day in question the cargo of a steamer called 
the Caho Machkhato, lying at a wharf in the 
Harbour of Santa rider, was found to be on 
fire* The weather was beautifully fine, and 
much of the population had ventured out of 
doors to enjoy the sunshine. An alarm of 
fire naturally caused considerable excitement, 
and when it became known that a steamer 
was burning the quay -side was very soon 
thronged with interested crowds, who were 
congratulating themselves, all unconscious of 
danger, upon being able to obtain so excel- 
lent a view of so novel a sight. Dense clouds 
of smoke arose from the steamer and the 
fire burnt furiously. 
The local fire- 
brigade arrived, 
planted their 
engines upon the 
wharf, and at- 
tempted to extin- 
guish the tire, but 
their efforts were 
unavailing, and it 
became evident 
that there was no 
hope of saving the 

There happened 
to be in the har- 
bour a Spanish 
liner {Alfonso 
AY//.), and some 
men were sent in 
boats by the 
captain to render "V.™ """**' T " ™ 

assistance. It was decided to make an 
attempt to flood the vessel and sink her, 
as the fire threatened to spread to the wharf 
and quay, and thus adjacent property would 
become endangered, Operations to this end 
had been begun, and efforts were being made 
to cut holes through the steamer's side just 
below water-line, when (about 4,15 p.m.) a 
terrific explosion occurred, which blew the 
entire fore-part of the steamer to pieces and 
scattered its fragments and the remains of 
the burning cargo in all directions* Several 
hundred persons were killed or maimed (the 
exact numbers were never known); a large 
number of buildings were wrecked by the 
force of the explosion ; the town was set on 
fire in several places, and immense damage 
was done. 

The photograph showing the burning 
steamer was taken very shortly before the 
explosion by a local photographer, who had 
a narrow escape. Had he not left for his 
studio when he did this illustration would 
not have appeared. The view was tnken 
from the end of a short wharf, similar to that 
to which the steamer is moored. The piles 
of the latter wharf are visible above the 
water line to the left of the steamer, whilst 
on the wharf are silhouetted the heads and 
shoulders of a crowd of persons who were 





amongst those killed. On the right of the 
steamer can be seen the men from the liner 
engaged in their efforts to sink her. 

The question will naturally be asked : What 
was the cause of this explosion? And the 
answer can be given at once : Dynamite. 
But to the further questions : How was it thai 
so dangerous a commodity was allowed to 
be in such a place? and being there, why 
was no warning given lo the public? no very 
satisfactory answers can be given, principally 
because all the persons who could throw 
material light 
upon the subject 
were killed, 

As is the case 
with all harbours 
of importance, 
there existed n t 
Santander certain 
regulations con- 
cerning vessels 
with explosives on 
board. A couple 
of wharves, as far 
removed from 
valuable property 
as possible, were 
set apart for such 
vessels, and when 
berthed a red flag 
was required to 
be hoisted as a 
dan ge r- signal, 
The harbour- 

the vessel where the explosion took place, each 
case weighing something like a half-hundred- 
weight Hie dynamite in the other hold, 
curiously enough, did not explode, but sank 
with the steamer and was afterwards re- 
moved. This was not accomplished without 
accident, as another (much smaller) ex- 
plosion occurred, attended with some loss of 

The second photograph was taken from 
the same spot as the first, but at low tide. 
It shows the steamer after the explosion, 

master was ex- «ww«j 
pec ted to see that 

these regulations were carried out. Un- 
fortunately he was one of the killed, as 
was also his deputy; neither can therefore 
give us his version of the story* 

It was commonly reported at first that the 
dynamite was contraband, but this proved to 
be incorrect, as the consignment was set 
forth in the ship's manifest. Owing to an 
eij^ht da}** quarantine outside the harbour 
the documents relating to her cargo had been 
received through the post> and its nature was 
known long before the vessel was berthed. 
She carried a miscellaneous assortment of 
goods, amongst which were 1.730 cases of 
dynamite intended for mining purposes, 
brought from the neighbouring port of 
Bilbao. The steamer was on a coasting 
voyage, and the explosive was consigned to 
Santander, Huelva, and Seville. The casts for 
Santander (twenty in all) had been removed 
before the accident. So far as could be ascer- 
tained, about 800 cases were in the fore-part of 



by Google 

lying in the mud. The fore-half is gone, 
but the rest remains, including (and this is 
very extraordinary) one of the masts, 

As to responsibility, one of two things 
seems clear: either the harbourmaster did 
not ascertain that the steamer was carrying 
dynamite, or, knowing it, did not take 
measures to send her to Lhe danger- wharf. 

It was stated that the captain was in a 
cafe when informed of the fire, and someone 
who knew of the dynamite referred to it. 
The captain — outwardly, at any rate — 
ridiculed the idea of danger, saying that, 
though dynamite would explode under 
certain conditions, it would be consumed 
quite harmlessly by the fire, and, indeed, it 
is well known that dynamite, when not con- 
fined, can be burned without any danger 
from explosion, 

The captain was on his ship at the time of 
the accident and was destroyed with it, as 
were all his officers and crew except three. 
Original from 




"' ' 1 A 

I I I tLl UI-- C El I:-. Li'MI ^SlH>N i\>l|i4 A !: J[ M'V,. I 

From a S'A&top rap*A_ 

Besides these, the local agent to the shipping 
company to which the Caho Mathkhaco 
belonged was on board, and he and all his 
staff? excepting the office-boy, lost their lives. 

The precise manner in which the explosion 
came about can only be a matter of surmise. 
It may have been due merely to heat acting 
upon the explosive when confined closely in 
cases ; or to concussion, caused by some of 
the cargo falling ; or to the operations of the 
men from the liner whilst breaking a hole 
through the side of the steamer. 

A number of firemen on the wharf and on 
the vessel were killed and their appliances 
destroyed. Amongst other victims were the 
Governor of San- 
tander, an official 
of marine affairs, 
the chief engineer 
for ports and light- 
houses, a marquis, 
a colonel, also a 
major; and the 
captain, mate, and 
doctor of the liner, 
wilh thirty-two of 
the crew. 

After the ex- 
plosion there was 
a fearful scene, 
Hundreds of dead 
and w T oundcd per- 
sons lay about the 
quay and the 
streets near, 
amongst them 
being many chil- 
dren who had 

been out with their mothers 
and nurses for an airing. 
Limbs and fragments of 
human bodies were scat- 
tered in ghastly confusion 
(in one instance half a 
soldier was b